One Against One Hundred
by CanDoAnythingNow
Summary: A single pop-up... oh, why do you bring such terror?  Join Catherine Blacke as she struggles to keep her sanity with the ENTIRE.  WORLD.  Rated T for cussing; pairing is PrussiaxOC  READ NEWEST UPDATE GIVEN TO EATSLEEPHETALIA
1. What the Heck?

**A/N: Hi everyone! CanDoAnythingNow here, with a first story! LE GASPE! Anyway, this is a story spawned off of LolliDictator's manuals, so yeah. XD**

**Rated T for cussing. :P**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Catherine Blacke and John because this is a FAN fiction, so yeah.**

I sighed as I clicked away pop-ups. _Stupid things… who in their right mind would actually click "OKAY"? _I thought, brushing my dark brown hair out of my face. Currently, I was trying to watch Hetalia Axis Powers, but the website that I used was riddled with viruses and pop-ups—good thing I had avast! Antivirus. I looked around the white-washed walls of my overly-large house in northern Montana, where the land was cheap and there were bears.

Looking back at what I was watching, which was Hetalia episode forty-three, my computer dinged, giving a warning of a pop-up. Strangely, it was something about Hetalia _Units_, which was something I'd never heard of. Moving my mouse to click the little "X", my cat decided that the mouse was an _actual _mouse and pounced on my hand, causing me to click the "OKAY!" button. So, once I had freed my hand from my cat, I was confronted with a quiz. This time, there was no cancel button or the little "X". Sighing, since I wanted to return to anime a quickly as possible, I filled it out. Once I'd finished it and submitted it, another pop-up came up saying:

"Congratulations! Your first unit will arrive in two to three business days!" I quickly closed it, waiting for a "Support our Sponsors!" page to come up. Nothing happened.

…

The fuck?

Shrugging it off as a scam, I returned to watching Hetalia. I finished the Axis Powers series—now to go onto World Series! Sadly, my favorite virus-ridden website didn't have it for some reason, leaving me to find another website.

I quickly forgot about that pop-up, since there was a surprise blizzard, leaving me to shovel my driveway and most of the road, since the snow plow didn't come this far out. I had to go into town some way, anyway.

A few days later, while I was typing more on my story—historical fiction which I claimed America would consider very "Un-American," since in some parts it seemed pro-Nazi-ism, the doorbell rang. I immediately looked at the door. Then at myself. I was wearing a simple black tee-shirt with black skinny jeans. You can guess what my favorite color was, right? I pushed my square-glassed further up my nose—and NO, I didn't get them because I was an America fangirl; they just happened to be the best frame there that wasn't pink.

I walked over to the door, and looked through the peep hole. All I saw was a giant box. The heck? I unlocked the door, and saw that there was also a delivery guy standing a bit to the side.

"Erm, hello?" I asked, somewhat confused.

"Are you Catherine Blacke?" he asked. I nodded quickly, causing my short hair to fall in my face. "Well then, sign here," he said, pushing an electronic-signing-thingie to me. I quickly signed something that looked like two scribbles that appeared to start with a "C" and a "B" and handed it back. "Do you need any help getting the box in?" he asked.

"Yep." I replied. He used one of those box-weeling thingies to get into into the main entryway of my home.

"Here," he said and handed me a manual. "And good luck. You'll need it. The next unit will arrive in two to three days, but there have been mishaps where one comes early." He then left to go to his truck, which I then noticed the logo on it—Flying Mint Bunny? I sniggered, slammed the door shut and looked at the manual.

**GILBERT BEILLSCHMIDT: User Guide and Manual**

Oh… shit…

I began to look over the methods for waking him up. "Let's see… don't want to be raped… don't any beer… and I want him to listen to me. Alright then."

I sat down next to the box and began to speak in my very-rusty Russian. "Давно не виделись,"* I stated to the box, smirking to myself. The box began to shake a little. I blinked; this was _Prussia_—the amazingly awesome _Prussia_, and I wanted to _terrify_ him? "Stupid… half-Russian… ness…" I muttered to myself. I looked over the box. "Damn… how the heck do you open this… hey, can you hear me in there? I can't open it because I'm not awesome enough; can you?" I said to the box, feeling like an idiot. There wasn't any response from the box.

"Come on; please? I'll buy you beer!" I said to the box. To this, there were loud thudding noises coming from the box. I dove behind an open door, which happened to be a bathroom door. The box finally opened, revealing Prussia. He immediately looked around, confused. My cat, being the idiot that it is, ran meowing to me, causing him to notice me.

"Hey, why are you hiding from my awesomeness?" he asked, relatively confused.

"I was hiding from the giant SPEARS of wood that could've impaled me!" I replied hotly, making him laugh.

"Yeah, yeah…. Hey, where's Gilbird?" he said, looking around.

"He's probably in that small box over there." I said, pointing to said box, and still hiding behind the door.

"Why're you hiding still?" he asked finally. I shrugged.

"I dunno. Didn't really feel like moving. Besides, my cat is trying to… WHAT ARE YOU DOING, TIGER?" My cat, Tiger, was at the moment currently attacking Gilbert. "BAD TIGER! BAD!" I yelled and grabbed my cat. "Sorry, he attacks everyone, including me. And dogs five times his size. And a bear once..." I said apologizing and holding my cat.

"Whatever… just keep that physico cat away from my awesome self and Gilbird!" he replied, glaring at the cat.

"No promises," I replied, sighing and carrying my cat into a different room.

"Hey, what should the awesome me call the not-so-awesome you? Cuz I don't feel like referring to you as 'that girl'," he yelled from the entry with chirping that was apparently Gilbird.

"I'm Catherine Blacke, but friends call me Calvin," I replied. "And I'm not awesome—I'm epic!" I yelled back.

"Yeah right!" He said, walking into the room. Suddenly, he had this _look_ in his eyes. He rushed over and grabbed my right breast. "Nice chest; you wanna see my five meters?" he said with an almost-deranged grin. I blushed, and stuttered out incomprehensible syllables. Suddenly with a caterwauling yowl, Tiger lept up and… bit Gilbert in… his… _vital regions_. He yelled and fell backwards. My hands flew up and covered my mouth.

"Bad Tiger, bad! No biting people _there_!" I said to my cat and grabbed him. He refused to let go. "Uh, damn, he won't let go..." I said and ran into my pantry and grabbed a can of tuna. I opened the can and set it down. Tiger flew over and stuck his face into the fish. Gilbert began to sit up, clutching his vital regions with both hands.

"That… fucking… hurt!" he grunted out.

"I am SO sorry! Tiger is somewhat crazy, and he attacked me a few days ago… making me… click… on that … pop-up…" I said, slowly lowering the bandaged hand that I had held up. I grabbed the manual and ran out of the room and began to read it. "Damn it… this is bad…" I said, reading over the modes. I left the hallway that I had run into and went back into the eating area where Gilbert was. He was sitting at the table writing in a journal. He looked up at me as I entered.

"Hey…. Didn't you promise me beir?" he said, looking at me. I sighed and smacked my forehead.

"That I did… come on, we're going to town." I said, walking over to the entryway. "And I'll mention: Don't be macho and say you don't need a jacket—you'll need one." I added, looking back as I pulled on a long trench coat. I handed him a somewhat-larger black jacket. "Here. I don't want you to freeze."

I grabbed my boots and pulled them on before opening the door, basically welcoming in the twenty-degree weather. I shivered, before running over to the closet and grabbing a scarf and gloves. We walked along the path over to the garage, and into my car—a simple-appearing minivan. I started the car and immediately turned on the heater. Gilbert was buckling himself into shotgun, when he had to ask a question.

"What's with all of the buckles?" He asked.

"This isn't a regular minivan—I messed with it, so now it's four-wheel drive, with a non-apparent roll-cage and a really cool sound system." I replied, turning out of my driveway. "By the way, it's a ten minute drive to town, so yeah." I added, simply, driving along the empty road.

The drive passed in silence, as I focused on the road and Gilbert looked out the windows at random fields. We pulled into the some-what small town, with a grocery store—Save Mart—a liquor store, who's name was just that, an auto parts store, a florist, a police station, a Cracker Barrel—a store/restaurant place that has the best French toast**, and various fast food restaurants, including an iHop, a McDonalds, a Carls Jr.***, and a few motels.

"We're going grocery shopping first, and then we're going to the liquor store, okay?" I said to Gilbert, who simply nodded. I pulled into the parking lot of the store, and we went in. I grabbed necessities—milk, bread, sandwich meat, random cheese—and other various things on the list that I kept in the pocket of my jacket. I paid for it all and we went back to the car, put the groceries in it, and drove to the other end of town where there was the liquor store. A line from the manual came to mind as I pulled into the parking lot.

"Hey, Gilbert—no groping my friend John who works at the liquor store, okay?" I said to him. He hadn't groped anyone at the grocery store because there was only the old dude who worked at the cashier and he was _creepy_.

"Fine—it's like you don't trust me," he said with a snort.

"That's because I don't. Come on—I'm heading into the store and have no idea what I'm going to buy because I don't drink." I said, un-buckling myself and opening the door. Gilbert muttered something and got out of the car.

I walked into the store, the bells on the door chiming. "Hey John!" I called to the cash register.

"Hey Calvin!" John called back, waving. "What're you doing here? You don't drink."

"I don't drink, but my… uh… _tenant_ does." I replied, glancing at Gilbert who had immediately gone over to the beer.

"Hey, they have German beir!" he said happily. I face palmed.

"His name's Gilbert." I stated simply. As if on cue, Gilbert came back with a few cases of beer, which I paid for.

We waked back to the van, put the beer in the back, buckled in and began the drive back to my house. Upon arriving, I got a surprise. There was the Flying Mint Bunny truck _again_. "Gilbert, take stuff into the house. Put it in the kitchen. Beer goes last." I said to him, making him grumble. I turned fully to him. "I make myself clear, Да?" I said, smiling scarily.

"Uhm, yeah, yeah… groceries first, beer last, all goes in the kitchen…" he said, terrified.

"Molto buona!"**** I said, smiling. I opened the trunk of the car, and walked over to the deliveryman.

"Sorry, there was a mix-up at the post office… and so here's your second unit!" He said, obviously faking a smile. I sighed.

"Just hand me the signing thingie." I said. He handed me it, and I signed it again.

"Here's the manual." He said. "Do you need any help getting it in?"

"Yeah, lemme just open the door." I said, and unlocked the door. He wheeled the crate in again. "Do you want some hot chocolate?" I asked him. He looked half frozen, but he shook his head. "Alright then." He handed me the manual and left. I looked at the manual.

**FELICIANO VARGAS: User Guide and Manual**

"Damn it…" I muttered, now looking through the manual. "Hey, Gil, looks like we're having pasta for dinner." I called into the kitchen. I began to push the box into the kitchen, where _Gilbert actually had taken the groceries in_. I began to put the groceries away, some into the refrigerator and others into the pantry. I filled a pot with water and began boiling it.

From the box, there was the sound of someone hitting the box. Then it stopped, and sobbing about how the box was extremely hard began. I sighed and looked around for something to use to open the box. I ended up going into the garage and grabbing a crow bar to open the box. As soon as the box was open, the box's sole inhabitant lept out and hugged me.

"Yay! Thank you for saving me from the scary box!" Italy cried out, hugging me extremely tight.

"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever…" I said. "I need to get back to making dinner, so can you let me go?" I asked. The water was at a rolling boil now.

"Vee… Are you making pasta?" He asked, smiling.

"Yep." I replied simply.

"Benissimo!"***** He cried out, smiling widely. "Pastaaaaa!"

"Sure, whatever floats your boat," I said, pulling out the pasta noodles and breaking them in half before dropping them into the water, which I turned the temperature of down. I pulled out a kind of meat, which I began to chop into small pieces before sticking into a pan to cook. I pulled out a bowl and a few eggs, which I cracked and dropped in and whisked with a fork.****** After a while, I finished making the pasta, which I put into a bowl and on the table. I put three plates on the table, along with cloth napkins, forks and glasses of water.

"Here we go—Carbonara Pasta, my favorite!" I said, smiling. After dinner, I wandered over to my cat—whom had apparently slept all this time and was only just waking up. "Heya Tiger," I said, petting the cat and smiling. "Feliciano, if Tiger attacks you it is perfectly okay for you to come and get me. This is a little demon with fur, okay?" I said to the somewhat scared now country.

"Yeah, crazy cat attacked the awesome me!" Gilbert said. Gilbird chirped randomly.

"Hey, Gilbert, what does Gilbird eat?" I asked, looking at the bird. He shrugged.

"Anything, I guess." He said, and went back to writing in his journal.

I sighed and picked up my cat. "Come on, you're going in your room. Anyway, so do you two want to see your rooms?" I asked the nation and the ex-nation, to which both agreed to with differing levels of exuberance. "Well then, come on—all of the bedrooms are either upstairs or in the basement—which is probably infested with rats, by the way. So come on!"

We all walked up the stairs to what appeared to be a hallway with doors every few feet. "The furthest one on the left is mine, so choose among the rest." I said, pointing to all of the rooms. Gilbert picked the first one on the right, since it was the closest room to him. Feliciano chose the one next to mine. I looked at my watch. "Okay, it's only seven so put your stuff in you rooms while I think of something to do for the next three hours." Feliciano ran downstairs to grab his small box and immediately put it in his room. Gilbert went downstairs more slowly and grabbed his before throwing it in his room randomly. He then looked at me with a creepy grin. He grabbed both of my breasts and pushed me against a wall.

"You never answered my question—wanna see my five meters?" He said with a smirk.

I responded by saying a few incomprehensible syllables before smacking him. "No way, down to the ninth circle of HELL!" I yelled at him, a blush creeping over my face. Feliciano looked out of his room, but immediately hid again when he saw what was transpiring.

I stormed down stairs and sat on the couch. I turned on the television, and then turned on the DVD player and put in Hetalia English Dub: Season One. Feliciano looked at what I was watching before joining me on the couch. Gilbert went down stairs and over to the computer, intent on blogging. After we finished the disk, I looked at my watch. It was ten o'clock at night.

"Okay everyone, time for bed!" I yelled and grabbed a set of random toothbrushes and toothpaste. "Pick one, each of you." I said. Feliciano grabbed a blue one, while Gilbert grabbed a red one. "There's a bathroom upstairs—end of the hall. Go and brush your teeth now." I said, looking between both of the men. They went upstairs. I went into my room, where I locked the door and put on my pajamas—an oversized gray tee-shirt that I had won at a fairground years ago and a pair of black leggings. I then went into the bathroom, where I grabbed my toothbrush—green—and toothpaste out of a drawer. I brushed my teeth, occasionally glancing between Gilbert and Feliciano. They were both brushing their teeth at the other sink.

After we all brushed our teeth, I went downstairs to a panel in the wall. I typed in a nine-digit code, which caused the electric fence outside to turn on. "Alright everyone, no going outside now. The electric fence is live." I called to the other inhabitants of the house. I went into my bedroom and collapsed on my bed after closing my door and turning off the light.

I was exhausted. _And the days would only grow longer as I got more units_, my subconscious remarked as I drifted off to sleep.

**A/N: Wow now that's long. XD**

***Long time no see—I felt like it would fit. :P**

****Don't own Cracker Barrel—it's a really amazing breakfast food place that, in my opinion, has the best French Toast. :D**

*****Own none of these**

******Very Good! (Italian)**

*******Very Good! (Same thing, Italian again. -_-')**

********Carbonara Pasta exists—this is a summary on how to make it, with a few points missing. xD**

**Anyway, this isn't a one shot (I hope .), so there's a high chance of another chapter! See ya soon!**

**-CanDoAnythingNow out**


	2. The American Wonder Appears!

**A/N CanDoAnythingNow back again with chapter two! Wewt! Sorry this took so long (D: ) but my regular life is busy. Very, very busy. BTW, ****Да=Da in Russian and Molto buona is actually Latin in pronunciation only. xD**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or Flying Mint Bunny whom is part of Hetalia. I also do not own the idea for this kind of fan fiction or the manuals. Or Mountain Dew. Or the song "Hero". Or Naruto.**

**ONWARD TO THE CHAPTER!**

I sighed with happiness as I slowly began to drift toward consciousness, cuddling toward the source of warmth in my bed. My eyes snapped open. _Wait…. Warmth?_ Next to me in my bed, instead of there being NOTHING, was a fuzzy blob with brown hair. I shrieked and fell out of bed, grabbing my glasses as I fell.

"Vee… what's wrong?" Feliciano said sleepily, sitting up in bed. I merely stared. He was apparently… _naked_. I sighed.

"I KNOW I don't know how things are in Italy, but here in AMERICA, you sleep wearing at _least_ a pair of pants on." I said, staring still.

"But then it gets hot…" he whined.

"That's when you kick the blankets off—easy." I replied and turned to look at the alarm clock next to my bed. _Nine o'clock_… I thought, and sighed. "Get out of my room. Now." I said.

"Vee… why?" Feliciano whined.

"I need to take a SHOWER so I need to UNDRESS," I said, stamping my foot down with each emphasized word. He then sorta looked at me. I sighed again. "That means you'll have to leave my room." He stood up. I covered my eyes and wailed "My EYES! They were VIRGIN! Cover yourself up with something!" He simply wandered out of my room, still in the buff. I then realized something.

"Don't let Prussia rape you!" I called into the hallway, and closed the door. I locked my door quickly—which, until now, had never been used. I then quickly undressed, grabbed my robe and ran to the bathroom… where a _certain_ albino was leaning unsteadily.

He was apparently drunk.

And he noticed me.

… FML…

Thank goodness that door was open a bit and opened _inwards_.

I jumped, ninja-esque, through the door, narrowly avoiding the unwanted-hands of a certain albino, slammed the door shut and locked it.

After my shower, which was _thankfully_ un-interrupted, I got dressed in my black skinny jeans and a green Mountain Dew tee-shirt and walked downstairs to the kitchen. I made some cold cereal for myself, ignoring the Italian running everywhere and the drunken Prussian and went to watch some TV, namely the weather. And Myth Busters. Italy randomly collapsed on the couch next to me around eleven o'clock, while the Prussian went back to bed at some time.

At around one o'clock, I made us all lunch—hot, home made soup. After adding a WHOLE ton of salt to mine, I sipped it happily. Italy just kinda… stared at me. After a while, I stared back.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" I asked, irritably.

"Vee, no! It's just that… that was a lot of salt…" he said, staring at my soup.

"I like salt." I said, shrugging.

After lunch, I went on my computer to type more. I needed to have this story finished by next June, but I knew I would procrastinate later on. Italy stared at my story for a while before finding something more interesting to entertain himself with. Four hours later, I had nine more chapters done, but now I needed more research. Yay. However, it was nearly dinner time, so I saved the document one more time and went into the kitchen. I looked into the refrigerator. We had… stuff… leftovers… more stuff… yeah, we were going to have leftovers.

"HEY! EVERYONE GET DOWN HERE IN TWENTY SECONDS OR _NO DINNER_ FOR YOU!" I yelled vaguely upstairs. Feliciano immediately rushed into the kitchen, skidding as he stopped. Prussia slowly followed, almost obviously nursing a hangover.

"What do you want, bitch?" Gilbert muttered, not wanting to talk loudly.

"We're having leftovers for dinner, so we have Carbonara Pasta—mine, green beans, rice, some roast chicken, some almond chicken, some teriyaki chicken, some steak—I think, some peas and some bacon. If you don't want any of that, make something. I'm having pasta." I stated, pointing to all of the Tupperware containers while holding possessively onto my pasta. After a while, Gilbert had re-heated steak and rice while Feliciano made more pasta.

After dinner, I went back to the television, intent on watching a movie or something, Italy following me. Gilbert wandered over to the computer, probably going to blog about the past two days. I pawed through my DVD collection and finally settled on watching "Howl's Moving Castle"—one of my favorites. Italy screamed occasionally, though. What a wimp—it's not even scary! Once we finished the movie—it was now nine o'clock—I looked through the movies again.

"Hey, Feliciano, do you want to watch 'Kiki's Delivery Service' or 'My Neighbor, Totoro'?" I asked him, holding up both movies.

"Vee… the second one," he said, pointing to "My Neighbor, Totoro".

"'My Neighbor, Totoro' it is!" I said, and put the DVD in the DVD player. After we finished this, it was ten thirty at night. "Okay everyone, bedtime!" I called out to the two nations. Italy wandered upstairs to his room. Gilbert merely fell out of the computer chair. I sighed, but walked over and put him in the fireman's carry. I carried him upstairs to his room, where Gilbird has apparently made a nest. I dropped him on his bed, where I took off his shoes and jacket and put them next to the bed. I dragged the blankets over him and then left his room for my own. I changed into my pajamas before going to brush my teeth and finally went into my room.

I remembered to lock the door, thank goodness, and then I flopped onto my bed, the lights off, ready for dreamland.

After around two hours of tossing and turning, I finally dropped off to sleep, exhausted.

**~~The Next Day~~**

I was dreaming. The dream was about how I was attacking little baby chickens with Gilbert's face using pasta. As I launched pasta at chickens, they began making this weird chiming noise. Almost like a doorbell…

I sat up, yawning. This morning, there wasn't anyone else in the bed—thank _goodness_. I grabbed my glasses and looked at the alarm clock—nine thirty in the morning. The sound of the doorbell ringing pierced through the tranquility. I pulled myself out of bed, yawning, grabbed my iPod and hit shuffle before I began to walk down the stairs. I slipped. As I fell, I basically _rolled_ down around ten steps until I was lying on the ground, dazed. The doorbell rang again. "Coming, coming…" I muttered, and pushed my glasses further up my nose.

I walked over to the door, rubbing my poor shoulder that had taken the brunt of my fall. I opened the door and was confronted with thirty degree weather and a large box. I peered around the box to see the _same_ delivery man as before. "Hello delivery man. Since you appear to be the only one delivering units to me, may I know your name?"

"Hello, and it's Steven. Here's your next unit." He said, simply. He handed me the signing thing, which I scribbled something on. Seriously, though—what's that thing called?

"Alright—just put it in the entryway," I said, pointing. He rolled it into the entryway.

"Here's your manual. See you in a few days!" he said, handing me a thin book and waved as he left. I slammed the door shut—not because I was angry or anything, the weatherproofing was cheap. I glanced at the manual.

**ALFRED F. JONES: User Guide and Manual**

"… Snap…" I said, staring at the manual. And, as lucky as it is, the song "Hero" began to play on my iPod. I looked through the wake up options for this unit. "Well, he won't be angry… that's good…" I muttered, looking between the four options. "I don't want to be insulted… and I'll laugh at myself doing an accent… so the anthem or TV, right? I wonder what'll happen if I talk in a French accent…" I mused to myself, giggling at the end. "I think I'll play the Star Spangled Banner." I said, decided. "Thank goodness for the internet. Then again, I could just sing it… and cut off when he responds… but I could pause the video…" I began to ponder.

"Ehn, heck to it all, I'll just sing.

_Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light_

_What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?_"

At this point, I was joined by out-of tune singing, and, not knowing what to do next, I continued singing.

"_Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,_

_O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?_

_And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, _

_Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there._

_Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave_

_O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?_"

Hoping that the manual didn't mean all four verses, I lightly knocked on the box. "Hey, can ya hear me in there? I can't open the box, so can you?" I asked and, not waiting for a reply, leapt behind my trusty bathroom door. Yes, the same one that I hid from Prussia behind. As I predicted, the box basically exploded.

Yes, _exploded_. What's more American than an explosion?

Anyway, there was America sorta… standing there, looking confused. I was about to step out from behind my barrier when my completely-insane cat went yowling past me, prepared to attack poor Alfred.

"Nooo! Tiger! Stop!" I leapt from behind the door and managed to grab my demon-kitty by his collar. I then proceeded to push the cat into the bathroom and shut the door. Good thing the toilet didn't work in this one. America stared at me. I gave an apologetic smile back. "Welcome to northern Montana, where cats go insane and there are bears." I stated with a bit of a grin. He grinned back.

**((Mini A/N: Sorry if America is out of character! *flees from raging fangirls*))**

"Sweet! So you're an American on me and Mattie's border, right? Cuz if you are then you're cool cuz you're sorta a part of heroic me!" he said, an infectious grin on his face as he used horrible texting grammar.

"Uhh… yeah, let's go with that. So… uh… do you wanna see your room?" I said, slowly.

"Yeah! It's gonna be, like, totally awesome!" he said, still grinning.

"Well the, uh, follow me," I said, and began to walk up the stairs. "You're the third unit I've gotten, so this room is taken," I said pointing to Prussia's room, "this room and that room are taken, and that's the bathroom. My room is last door on the left." I said, pointing.

"Cool! Well, since I'm the hero, I'll take this room here!" he said, and ran into the room across from mine. I shrugged and walked into my bedroom, where I locked the door and dressed. I put on a dark blue tank top and a lower-cut blue shirt along with my black skinny jeans. I walked out of my room to see the hyperactive nation almost about to knock on my door. He grinned.

"I'm hungry—let's go get McDonalds!" he said, smiling. I frowned.

"First of all—we eat healthy in the morning. Second of all, McDonald's is revolting and disgusting and we're having breakfast HERE. Besides, it's a rip-off—not as bad as In-'N-Out, but _still_." I replied, counting off the reasons on my fingers. Italy decided it was a good idea to randomly jump out of his room. America and I both leapt back at this surprise. He then looked at me.

"Wait… don't tell me you also have the commie!" He said, looking at me. I glared back.

"DON'T MAKE FUN OF MY RUSSIAN HERITAGE YOU басран*!" I yelled at him, terrifying Italy and waking up Prussia.

"OH MY GOD YOU'RE PART COMMIE!" He yelled back, pointing accusingly.

"Well, I'm SORRY my great-grandparents on my dad's side decided to flee from religious persecution and come here!" I replied snarkily. Italy had wandered down a few steps.

"Vee… you're scary when you're angry…" Feliciano said, brandishing a white flag. I facepalmed.

"Sorry… half-Russian heritage tends to make me yell at stuff…" I said, apologizing and looking between America and Italy.

"Hey… what should I call you?" America asked looking at me.

"Calvin, cuz I hate my actual name. It's too girly." I said, shrugging.

"What is it though?" America asked, looking like a teenage girl getting some juicy gossip.

"Catherine. Any other questions?" I said, tapping my foot. They shook their heads no. "Good. I'm going to make omelettes—any requests on what I put in them? Gilbert?" I said and called upstairs.

"Vee… some cheese please!" Feliciano said, smiling.

"I'll have the same as Feli-kun!" I heard from upstairs. I looked at the 'American Wonder'.

"Before you say anything, I'm going to make mine with bacon, mozzarella cheese, turkey and ham. Do ya want the same?" I said, looking at Alfred. He nodded, smiling.

"Alright then. Breakfast in around ten minutes—that means it will probably be twenty, by the way. Do something to amuse yourselves until then. Feliciano, go with Alfred. Gilbert, no raping or groping anyone. I'll be able to tell. America, no… uhh… I can't think of anything… uhm… yeah… watch Feliciano." I said, finishing lamely. "I'll be in the kitchen if something bad happens, and if Tiger gets out… feel free to run." I added and walked into the kitchen. I set to work making all of the omelettes, using all four of the burners on the stove and four pans to make all of them at once. After around ten minutes of flailing as I made the omelettes, I was done.

"Everybody, come on over here—breakfast's ready!" I called into the house, placing the omelettes onto plates. I garnished them with a sprig of parsley—no harm in making it look nice, right? Anyway, the three men wandered into the kitchen looking bored.

"Wow… this looks… good." Gilbert said, looking at his plate.

"Vee… Calvin is a good cook…" Feliciano said, smiling as he took his seat.

"Mrmph, shish ish good!" America said, already eating. **((Translation: Mmm, this is good!))**

"Thank you for your complements, but it's really the fact that I can learn from watching people in my cooking classes, since I do the dishes." I replied, sprinkling salt on my omelette before eating it.

After breakfast, we all wandered around. I went over to the computer, where I brought up my story. I was already typing another page when I came to a point where I needed more historical facts—a high-up ranked person in the American military was visiting the Gulag for reasons unknown to my main character, Adler. However, I had _no_ clue as to what the correct rank would be. I could as America… but he'd pry. And then be angry or something.

I ended up sitting there, staring at my computer screen while balancing a pencil on my nose. I didn't have to finish it immediately, missing sleep for days on end, anyway. I heard someone walk over. I turned around and there was Gilbert, looking bored. He looked at me.

"I'm bored. What's the not-as-awesome you doing?" he said, looking at me. I looked back.

"Typing my book, or I would be if I had _any_ idea of what to type next." I said, still balancing the pencil.

"What's the book about?" he finally asked.

"It's historical fiction." I replied, being vague.

"From when?" he asked.

"World War Two. Any more questions?" I replied.

"So you're being the stereotypical American and writing about how the Nazi's were evil and the Americans were good and the 'poor Jews' were innocent of everything?" he said, rolling his eyes.

"Actually, no. I think there's always two sides to a story. All we've focused on were the Jews and the Americans. I'm taking the other side." I said, now flicking my pencil between my fingers.

"So… can I read it?" he asked, looking at the screen. "I'm bored, and it seems like you're writing a Nazi story. Can I read it?"

"Uh, sure. I only have nine chapters done, and the stuff in astericks is what I'll eventually have to translate into German, while the stuff in squiggly lines is what I'll have to translate into Russian. Go ahead and read it, if you like." I said, hopping out of the computer chair. He immediately sat down and scrolled to the top and began reading. I wandered away to find something else to amuse myself with.

I walked past my downstairs bathroom, before stopping and taking a double-take. The door was open.

No cat.

Crap.

I started as I heard a scream coming from upstairs. _Crap, Tiger's attacking Italy_, I thought, running upstairs already. Italy then ran from his room towards me, screaming, Tiger following him. Italy hid behind me, wailing something indistinctly in Italian. I lowered myself into a martial arts stance, both hands in front of me, waiting for the cat to spring. Tiger crouched and sprung. I caught him easily before carrying him downstairs. I pushed the cat into the bathroom again, this time making sure that the door closed fully.

"Vee, Calvin is very strong!~~" Italy said, following me. I twitched. He was going to slowly drive me crazy, I _knew_ it!

"It isn't that hard if you know how to avoid the front half of the cat," I said, simply. He nodded and wandered away. America ran over randomly.

"Hey, Calvin—oh, hi Italy—I noticed that you have, like, a football! Do ya wanna play catch?" America asked, holding up said football **((A/N American football, with the weird oblong ball that doesn't have much to do with feet 0.o or lol hand egg :D))**.

"Al… there's roughly two feet of snow outside… and it's like thirty degrees out there… so OH YEAH! All of that stuff just makes it more interesting!" I said, switching from the parent about to deny their child candy to the best friend who was about to help you earn money to buy candy. "Lemme just grab my boots and my jacket!" I said, already running to grab said items. I grabbed my black trench coat and my knee high black boots. I like black, okay?

"Sweet!" he responded, smiling.

"I'm going to grab Prussia too, okay? He needs to get out of the house. Like literally. As in now." I said, now heading upstairs. Gilbert was still looking at my story, ignoring the world. As I walked over, he looked up.

"This is actually really accurate, but there're some mistakes. But you can always ask the awesome me for help!" he said, grinning.

"Yeah, anyway, Al and I are going to play catch outside. Do ya wanna come?" I said, standing there boredly.

"Isn't it cold outside… with _snow_?" he asked, cautiously.

"So? That makes it all the more fun. So, you in or out?" I said, tapping my foot with impatience now.

"Ehn, sure, why not?" he said, standing up. He wandered over to the closet where he grabbed the same jacket as when we went to the town. Gilbert and I went outside through the back door of my house, me doing my chivalrous guy impression and holding the door for him. America was already out there, tossing the football **((or hand egg xD))** into the air and catching it.

"Hey, America, I got Prussia to join in!" I called over to him, pointing with my thumb at Prussia.

"Sweet! Catch, Gilbert!" he called back, throwing the football. Gilbert caught it easily. He threw it to me. I caught it.

This continued for a while, until I messed with the order and passed it back to someone. After a while, Alfred and Gilbert got into a war to see who could throw it hardest. I, meanwhile, sat off to a side. Suddenly, I grinned as an evil thought came to my mind. I pulled on my gloves which had been in my pocket, scooped up some snow and threw it at Gilbert. He flinched and missed a catch. I then threw some snow at America, who laughed as he got hit.

Thus was the beginning of an all-out snowball war. We all made separate forts, varying from a humble mound of snow—mine—to a large mound of snow—Alfred's—to an even larger pile of snow—Gilberts. What I didn't know was what had happened to the football. As I threw snow at America, Gilbert was sneaking around to get behind me, armed with the football. I was scooping up snow when…

Hmm, black. What in the world?

…

…

…

As I blinked awake, I realized that I'm lying on the couch in my house with a… _hamburger_ on my _forehead_? I sat up, immediately regretting it as the room started to swim in my vision. I lay back down, taking the hamburger off of my forehead as I remembered what happened to a friend whose mother put a hamburger on her head when she was sick. She got even sicker.

I looked around the room, trying to remember what happened last. _Snowball fight… nothing else… what the heck happened?_ I questioned myself. I hear footsteps and I see America walk in. He brightens visibly when he sees that I'm awake.

"Yay! You're awake! Prussia just like totally hit you in the back of your head with the football. I carried you in here like a hero and got you that hamburger, speaking of which, why'd you take it off?" he said, quickly.

"So… wait… it's Prussia's fault… need my crowbar… where's Italy? Anyway, about the hamburger, my friend was sick and told her mother about how you in Hetalia put a hamburger on England's head when he was sick. Her mother did that to her, and she got even sicker." I said, slowly at first. "And, _ow_, my _head_!" I muttered, rubbing my temples. Italy then ran in, crying.

"Wahh! La sorella maggiore**! Are you okay?" he wailed, now clinging onto me.

"Uhm, I'll be fine in a while… being half-Russian has to have some benefits, right?" I said, laughing a little. He brightened visibly.

"Vee~~ since sorellona*** is okay, I'll make pasta!" he said, already walking toward the kitchen. I put my hands over my face.

"Uhh… I will NOT kill the Prussian… that would be too Russian… besides, he's a bit too awesome to kill, since this is spur-of-the-moment—he's offering valuable criticism on my story, anyway. I'll just yell at him. Loudly. Yeah, that should work…" I said, talking to myself. I heard more footsteps. This time when I looked, there was the guilty Prussian himself.

"Uhm, hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to knock you out—honestly! There was wind and…" he said, trailing off when he realized that I was laughing.

"Gil… it's _okay_! I'm American—we have thick skulls. I just need to rest for awhile. I'll be fine, don't worry about me." I replied, smiling a bit. I sat up and pulled off the blanket that was put over me by one of my overly-caring units. I wasn't wearing my jacket anymore, along with my gloves or boots. Instead, I was wearing my tank top and skinny jeans, along with my socks. I shivered unconsciously, wondering who took off my shirt.

Banishing that thought from my mind, I walked into the kitchen. I then grabbed my iPod and turned it on. It was around three in the afternoon. _Wow, I was unconscious for a long time_, I thought. Italy led me to the kitchen table, where he put a plate of pasta in front of me. I immediately dug in, not realizing how hungry I was. After a while, I finished the pasta.

"Thank you, Italy. It was very good." I said, smiling to the also-smiling nation.

"Vee~~ You're welcome!" he replied, smiling wider.

"I'm guessing you guys already ate, seeing as it's three in the afternoon." I said, rolling my shoulders.

"Yeah—Italy made us all pasta." America said lightly.

"Mkay then. I was originally planning on heading into town to buy all of you guys some regular clothes, but I don't think I should get behind the wheel of a moving vehicle for a while, right guys?" I said, looking between the three of them.

"Yeah—it'd be bad and put the awesome me at risk." Gilbert said.

"Don't be so rude—she was unconscious thirty minutes ago because of YOU!" America said, looking a bit angry.

"So what, fucktard. What're you gonna do?" Gilbert sneered at Alfred.

"Nuh-uh, guys. I'm NOT gonna pay for medical bills. Go brawl it out through the wii—play tennis or boxing or something." I said, quickly getting up and standing in between the two countries, putting my hands on their chests. "The batteries for the remotes are next to them, okay? I'm going to watch TV on the other television with Italy." I added quickly.

They nodded and wandered off to the downstairs television. I grabbed Feliciano by his arm and went into my room where there was another television. I turned it on, and, lo and behold, it was on the History channel, which was running a documentary on the history of Italy. Specifically, all of the civil wars.

Suddenly remembering a line from the manual about how he could be put into the _Melancholic_ mode by being reminded about his civil wars, I changed the channel to the cooking channel. However, the damage was already done.

I looked at Italy whom was apparently on the brink of tears. I poked him. "Hey, Italia—are you okay?" I asked, looking a bit concerned. He looked at me before bursting into tears.

"Wahh! I never wanted to be separated into the Italian city-states! I felt confused and terrified and it _hurt_! Wahh!" he began to wail, clinging onto me now. His grip was surprisingly tight; I couldn't even get an arm free. So, for the next three hours, I was forced to listen to a cried out history of Italy. I occasionally attempted to get in a comforting word, but it apparently had no affect.

Finally, when my minimal knowledge of Italian history ended and Italy finally loosened his grip. I hugged him tightly. "Don't worry, I'll make you pasta and it'll be all better." I said comfortingly into his ear while stroking his hair. I got up and went downstairs, where Alfred and Gilbert were _still_ duking it out, wii style. They had brought out one of my Naruto games—to be specific, Naruto: Shippuden Clash of Ninja Revolution Three. Alfred was playing as Naruto—the "hero" of the series, while Gilbert was Itachi—a villain.

"Ha! Take that, you Akatsuki jerk!" Huh. Alfred knows Naruto.

"Well, _hn_ to you, you demon fox container!" Apparently, so does Gilbert. Weird. I walked into the kitchen where I began making Carbonara pasta again. Once I finished it, I served up a plate and took it upstairs to where Feliciano was sulking. He hadn't moved since I had left him.

"Hey, Feliciano, here's some pasta." I said, holding out the plate and fork. He looked at me, before smiling slightly at the sight of pasta.

"Vee… th-thank you, Calvin…" he said, slightly stuttering. I sighed, and wrapped my arms around him.

"Listen, I may _not_ seem like the type to be a good counselor, but I practically _raised_ my two brothers and three sisters. I know how to listen. Just talk to me." I said, turning him to look at me.

"Y-you raised five siblings… what about your parents?" he said, confused. I sighed.

"They weren't around. My mother died when I was seven, all five siblings at varying ages. Dad went sorta… crazy. 'Nuff said." I said, pulling away from away from him and turning my head away. "I'm used to being the one to sign report cards, clean the house, comfort crying children, go to meetings—anything! The school and stuff accepted the strange circumstances and considered me a guardian of all of them—Christine, Clara, Tanya, Sam and Jonathan. My kids, practically." I said, now looking at the ceiling.

"Vee… but so… you…" Feliciano began to say to himself, appearing to be confused. I looked at him.

"Don't worry about it." I said, smiling a bit. He appeared to be deep in thought.

"Vee… how old are you?" he asked, still deep in thought.

"Twenty three. Why do you ask?" I said, looking at him confusedly.

"Then… isn't the oldest sixteen? Why aren't you raising them still?" he asked, looking at me.

"They go to a private boarding school in more southern Montana. They live with me during the summer and sometimes visit during Christmas, but it's February now. They're in school." I replied, looking around my room.

"Vee…" he said, still thinking.

"Anyhoo, I'm going downstairs. You're welcome to come along, if you like." I said, hopping off of my bed. I walked downstairs and picked up my cat, carrying him towards the kitchen. I pulled out a can of cat food, opened it, placed it in my cat's ceramic food dish, put it in the microwave for ten seconds and put it on the floor for my cat. He immediately dug into the food, apparently happy.

Prussia and America walked into the kitchen, having apparently solved their dispute. I served them plates of pasta, bored slightly. We all happily ate our pasta and talked about our favorite past times. Gilbert's was writing, Alfred's was playing video games or sports, Feliciano's was cooking and mine was cosplaying.

"What's cosplaying?" America asked, confused.

"It's where you dress up as your favorite anime character. I normally do ones where I just have to put in my contacts—no wigs, hair dye, makeup—anything." I replied.

"Oh… so who do you like cosplaying as?" he said, with a bit of a smile.

"Normally I do either Tenten or Itachi Uchiha from Naruto. However, when I was younger, I cosplayed as a female Italy and China. The time I was Italy was fun, since I just ran around acting like an airhead." I said grinning. "The only reason I did Italy was because my friend in highschool—I was in middle school—had a friend that cosplayed as you, Alfred. She found out that she and I liked Hetalia, so she wanted us to come along on Valentines Day. My friend came up with a "brilliant idea"—she would go as a female England, while I was female Italy. Not that fun when I had a serious disposition." I said, laughing.

"So what happened?" Prussia said, smirking. Gilbird tweeted from his perch on his head.

"I basically hid from my friend from behind their Germany the entire time. It was really fun!" I said, laughing harder.

"Now that's funny, right Italy?" America said, laughing too.

"Vee… Calvin is very funny, ne?" Italy said, joining in on the laughter.

"The best part was that no one believed that I wasn't Italian to begin with—every thing else, sure, but not Italian!" I said, simply smiling again.

"Then what is your heritage?" America asked, looking interested.

"Half Russian—"was cut off.

"YOU'RE PART COMMIE!" America yelled, standing up and pointing at me. I ignored him and continued.

"One fourth English—" I was cut off again.

"Vee! England is very scary!" Feliciano wailed. I ignored him again.

"One eight Irish and one eight French." I finished, met with dead silence.

"… just don't rape me in my sleep, okay?" Gilbert finally said.

**Fwewh! This took a loooooong time to type up. _**

**Translations:**

***Git. :D**

****Older sister—Italian. :3**

*****Big sis—Italian. :D**

**I tried to go all out on this one and just typed for a loooong time, but I think it's good. The heritage is based on my own, and I'll yell at you if you make fun of my Russian heritage.**

**Let me know if there are any mistakes, m'kay?**

**R&R, please! :D**


	3. Enter, the British Gentleman!

**A/N So yeah, chapter three. Woot woot. XD**

"**Talking"**

_**Thinking**_

**Disclaimer: I own Catherine Blacke, her family, Tiger and Martha. That's it, since I have too many references in here to list them off. X3**

After dinner, I cleared away the plates and set to washing them by hand. Sure, I had a dishwasher, but it barely did anything. Italy randomly walked over.

"Vee~~ can I help Calvin with the dishes?" he asked, his eyes apparently… closed.

"Uh, sure, yeah. How about you dry the dishes so that they can be put away sooner?" I replied, moving over a little. He began to happily dry the dishes, which surprised me. _How could anyone be so happy while doing the dishes?_ I wondered to myself before shrugging it off and scrubbing the pot harder. From what I could tell, America and Prussia were playing on the wii again. We finished washing the dishes quicker than I expected—probably because there was two people. I began to put the dishes away, somewhat ignoring Italy. He wandered into the other room, singing something quietly to himself.

I walked out of the room to find America pawing through my DVD collection. He turned as I walked in. "Man, your DVD collection stinks! Where are all the horror movies? The action movies? Anything?" he asked, scrunching up his nose a bit.

"I _really_ don't like movies that make me scream and I don't like blood." I replied, sighing.

"Then you're not American! We're watching whatever horror movie I can find playing now!" he replied, switching back to the cable television. He sat back down before Gilbert stole the remote. After a bit of channel flipping, he found The Grudge playing. Prussia grabbed me and sat next to me, with America on my left.

"Hey, Feli, could you turn the lights off?" he asked Feliciano, who turned off the lights as he fled upstairs. I made to stand up and run, but Gilbert and Alfred held me down.

After a while of watching the movie, I was staring at it like a brainwashed monkey. Then, after a while, I screamed as something happened. I began to subconsciously cling onto Alfred. Once the movie ended, I was clinging onto Alfred. I realized how close I was and scooched off of him.

But that wasn't the end.

It was a horror movie marathon.

For the next few hours, the cycle repeated itself—I stare at the TV like a brainwashed monkey and end up clinging to Alfred, screaming before realizing what I'm doing and getting off of him. Eventually, I merely clung to Alfred the entire time. At around one in the morning, the marathon ended. Gilbert and America looked ready for bed, but I was ready to get my revenge.

"You two made me sit through a seven-hour horror movie marathon. I'm going to make you two watch something called British Suspense and Horror—or the episode _Blink_ from Doctor Who*." I said, getting up and putting a disk into the DVD player. The familiar title screen came up and I switched to episodes, where I clicked on _Blink_. The familiar Doctor Who theme played, me humming along while smiling. Alfred and Gilbert looked extremely bored.

Finally, the image of the old, dilapidated mansion came up, with Sally Sparrow and her friend inside. America raised an eyebrow at the Weeping Angels. Thirty minutes in, Alfred and Gilbert were at the edge of their seats, staring like brainwashed monkeys at the television screen. By the end of the episode, they were shaking a little. America looked at me with one eyebrow raised.

"What's up with this? Stuff like this isn't Iggy's style—he does fantasy stuff!" he said, confused.

"Yeah, but I guess Doctor Who is the only exception. It's sci-fi and funny!" I said, grinning. "I'm heading to bed now, so night." I added, heading upstairs. I got into my pajamas before leaving my room. "Hey, America, pick your toothbrush and toothpaste." I said, holding out the random toothbrushes and toothpaste. He chose an orange toothbrush and I threw a tube of toothpaste at his head, but he caught it. I went into the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth and went back to my bedroom. This time, I didn't lock my door. I figured Italy was already asleep, so he'd stay in his room. I took off my glasses and put them on a bedside table.

I curled up in my bed, attempting to remind myself that it was only a movie and trying to go to sleep when I heard someone knock lightly on my door. I sighed, got out of bed and walked over to the door, not knowing what to expect but leaving behind my glasses. There was America, holding onto a teddy bear and a pillow, wearing nothing but a pair of Superman boxers, looking like he was almost on the verge of tears.

"Hey… can I sleep with you so the ghosts and stuff don't get me? Please?" he asked, looking like a seven-year-old child. I sighed.

"But won't that make us a bigger target?" I replied, half asleep. He burst into tears.

"B-but… I'm r-really scared!" he whimpered. I sighed, yet again.

"Alright… just cuz I'm tired as hell. Come on." I said, walking away from the door. He followed me, closing the door as he went. I curled up in my bed, turned toward the edge of the bed. He clambered into the bed next to me before clinging onto my t-shirt. He was completely pressed against me. He reached over me to put Texas next to my glasses.

And Gilbert told _me_ not to rape _him_ in _his_ sleep.

Damn it.

I eventually fell asleep, nearly forgetting about the unit in the same bed as me.

**~~The Next Day~~**

I was dreaming yet again. This time, it was that I was cuddling with a teddy bear. I turn to look at the teddy bear. He appears to want to say something, but what I hear is the sound of chiming. Almost like a doorbell…

I snap awake, realizing that the doorbell is ringing. As I blink at some unexpected light, I realize that I see… golden blonde. Specifically, golden blonde hair with a random bit of hair going up. I attempt to sit up, but can't since my shirt is being held onto.

America is sleeping in my bed, pressed against me and clinging onto the front of my shirt.

The doorbell rang again.

Oh, and the doorbell is ringing.

Fuck.

I attempt to free my shirt, but—since he's AMERICA, the world SUPERPOWER—it doesn't work. At all. I sigh and begin to poke Alfred repeatedly. He twitches after a while.

"Nyeh… wha?" he asks, barely awake.

"Please let got of my shirt." I said, looking at him.

"M'kay…" he responded and curled up. I immediately got up, blushing as I realize how _tightly_ he was pressed against me. Grabbing my glasses, I head out of my room, quietly closing the door behind me.

Once I walked downstairs, I immediately opened the door, welcoming in the twenty degree weather and… snow? Huh.

"Yo." I said to Steven, who had a light dusting of snow on his shoulders and head. He merely held out the signing thing. I scribbled something on it. "Sorry I couldn't come down sooner—horror movie marathon last night and Alfred refused to not sleep in the same bed as me. He was clinging onto my shirt." I said, handing back the signer.

"Sure; here's the manual. Do you need help getting the box in?" he responded. I nodded. He wheeled the box in, setting it down easily in the entryway.

"The next unit is probably going to come in one to two days; good luck." He said simply and left. I looked at the manual in my hand.

**ARTHUR KIRKLAND: User Guide and Manual**

Huh. Someone who is halfway sane. Sweet.

"Let's see… waking him up… Steven seems like a good person for shipping stuff, but to be sure I'll get those bottles of scotch that Martha gave me for Christmas." I went over to the kitchen where I got two bottles of scotch. My friend, Martha, claimed that I needed some form of alcohol in the house, despite being a home to three teenagers for around two months. I walked over to the box and grabbed my crowbar, where I began to carefully lever off the lid of the box.

Shipping didn't go perfectly.

I ended up looking into the greenest pair of eyes I've ever seen—well, I was looking, they were glaring. I held out one of the bottles wordlessly as a peace offering. A hand came out of the box and snatched it. A voice came from the box with an English accent.

"Hold on a tic… this is an English brand!" England stood up, and drank the contents of the bottle. I stared. He was roughly one inch taller than me, with even more scruffy hair and the largest eyebrows I've ever seen—larger than I'd ever think possible. He looked at me with an irritable expression on his face. "You do know it's rude to stare."

"S-sorry. I-I was j-just t-t-taken by s-surprise." I mentally cursed myself. Of _course_ my stutter makes a reappearance. He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not that scary, am I?" he asked.

"Uh, n-no! Not at all." I replied.

"Then why are you _stuttering_?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I dunno. It's weird and happens randomly, so how the heck am I supposed to know why I stutter?" I replied. "And that didn't make much sense, did it?" He shook his head.

"I'm guessing you're American." He said, saying the last word with some level of hate. "A fast-food loving, loudmouth American."

"Uh, actually no. My friends consider me quiet and also as a person that chooses to make her own meals rather than buy some random deep-fried grease." I responded, narrowing my eyes.

"Then you're different from every American I've met." He replied.

"Whatever. I'm going to watch some Doctor Who—a _British_ television series. You're welcome to join me." I replied and walked off. I flinched away from my cat as he went yowling past me. The crazy cat leapt at England, who yelped and jumped back. I ran over and grabbed Tiger. "Bad Tiger! No attacking new people!" I said crossly to the cat, which merely meowed. I looked at Arthur.

"Sorry about him. He attacks everyone—Prussia, Italy, America and you. And a bear once." I said apologetically.

"You have the git here?" he said, narrowing his eyes more.

"And _so_? He's asleep." I replied, walking away while still carrying the cat. I pushed the cat into the bathroom, which I had stocked with a litter box, a bowl of cat food and a bowl of water. I made my way into the living room, where I turned on the TV. It was still on the menu screen of the same Doctor Who episode as before.

"You actually do like Doctor Who?" England said with a level of amazement.

"Yep. It's better than most American shows." I replied, flicking on _Blink_ again. After a few minutes I fell asleep, using the arm of the couch as a pillow.

**England's POV**

I looked at the girl who hadn't even told me her name yet. She was asleep—she _had_ looked exhausted. I returned my gaze to the tele**, smiling a little. It was nice to meet someone who enjoyed British television.

Eventually, I sighed. I was hungry—no breakfast tended to do that to you. I walked into the kitchen, smiling. I would make her breakfast and get on her good side.

**Calvin's POV**

I blinked awake. _Wow… I'm really tired to have fallen asleep during _Blink_. No more horror movie marathons late at night for me_. I suddenly flinched at the feeling of a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, I made you breakfast." A voice said in my ear. I turned and remembered the events of the morning. England looked somewhat happy.

"Uh, alright…" I said, thinking over the methods I could use to avoid eating blackened hunks of stuff with purple auras. Then again, I could attempt to tough it out and just eat it… and die… I saw the manual and opened it. I flicked through it, trying to find something on this topic. _Sacrifice America… but I can't drag him out of bed on my own… I'm one-fourth English—do I have a chance of living?_ I thought to myself, and settled to eating revolting food.

As I walked into the kitchen, I realized that there was no smell of smoke. _Weird… maybe he just made me cereal…_ I thought to myself. He led me to the table where there was a bowl of mush.

"I made you oatmeal!" He said, smiling.

"Do you mind if I add some blackberries to it?" I asked cautiously. He shook his head.

"I don't mind if you add to it at all." He said. I grabbed the milk, blackberries and cinnamon-sugar. I 'carefully' added milk, cinnamon-sugar and berries to the oatmeal, hoping that it would dilute it enough for my fourth-English bit to deal with it. I carefully held the spoon and scooped some of it. England looked like he was a chef on one of those cooking shows. I carefully ate it.

It wasn't that bad.

Wow.

Go being one-fourth English! You can eat England's cooking and survive!

"Well… do you like it or not?" he asked, looking a bit excited. I smiled.

"It's actually really good! Thanks for making me my breakfast, Arthur!" I replied, eating another spoonful. He practically squealed and hugged me. Of course I'd never mention that I'd never had oatmeal before so I couldn't give a comparison, but it genuinely tasted good. He let go of me quickly.

"Uhm… p-please excuse my un-gentlemanly behavior, Miss…" he looked at me expectantly.

"Catherine Blacke, but friends call me Calvin." I replied smiling. Just then, my cell phone rang. England and I looked at it at the same time. I grabbed it and looked at who was calling before grinning and speaking. "You are an ENEMY of the DALEKS. You will be EXTERMINATED." I said, doing a Dalek impersonation. It was my friend, Martha, the person who introduced me to Doctor Who. She laughed and told me that the next episode of Doctor Who had come out where she was, since she lived in England. Martha added that she was going to send me a DVD with the episode on it, since it would probably lose stuff when the British gave it to us. "Thanks Martha! Can't wait to see you again! Bye!" I said and hung up.

"Who was that?" England asked me.

"My totally amazing friend who's British and lives in the UK. Her name's Martha and she was calling about how the next Doctor Who episode came out where she is and that she's sending a DVD with the episode and whattheheckistthatlittlelight?" I said, staring at a flying light.

"Tinkerbelle! Where's Captain Hook, Uni and Flying Mint Bunny?" he asked, smiling broadly.

"They're coming over right now—I'm the fastest, so I got here first!" she said. As I stared in shock, I realized that she was smiling.

"W-w-wait… so she's a _faerie_?" I said, still staring. England looked at me in surprise.

"You mean… you can _see_ her?" he said incredulously.

"Well, she flying there as bright as day, so who couldn't see her?" I replied, a bit angry.

"How old are you?" he asked suddenly.

"Twenty three." I replied, rolling my eyes.

"So that must mean that you're still young at heart… or English…" he mused, deep in thought.

"Whatever. I'm going to get dressed now." I replied and walked off. I headed upstairs where I was met halfway by a yawning Alfred. He hadn't gotten dressed yet. And he _still_ didn't have Texas. "Jeez, Al, put on a pair of pants or something!" I said, annoyed. He yawned and went into his room. I headed into my room and locked the door. I changed into a pair of black cargo pants and a cloud vomiting a rainbow on a black background. I then head into the bathroom where I grab my hairbrush and then head downstairs.

I walked into the kitchen, yanking the brush through my thick brown hair and nearly drop the brush. There was Arthur, apparently talking with a pirate, a unicorn, 'Tinkerbelle' and a green flying bunny.

"Wh-what in the world?" I said, staring at this strange scene in front of me. Arthur turned to see me staring with a blank look on my face.

"These are all my magical friends! That's Captain Hook, that's Tinkerbelle, that's Uni and that's Flying Mint Bunny!" He replied happily.

"I must've hit my head or something… yeah, I hit my head and the past three days have been a dream. Yeah, that's it. A dream. That explains why I survived his cooking." I said to myself, looking somewhat shocked.

"But… this is actual life…" Arthur stated.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going to pinch myself, and if I feel pain I'll agree with you." I pinched my arm and winced in pain. "Okay, real life… damn, this is kinda weird…" I said, looking between England and all of the 'magical friends'. An awkward silence grew.

"So… did you have any imaginary friends when you were little?" England finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Uh… let me think… when I was five, I remember thinking that this tree was sentient. Weird, right? Anyway, I remember that it was my friend and it would watch over me. Fat lot of good it did when my dad—" I shut my mouth suddenly. England looked at me with a strange look. Something wet slid down my cheek. I reached up; it was a tear.

"Are… are you alright?" he asked gently. I took off my glasses.

"Y-yes. I-I'm f-f-fine." I said quietly, tears still falling down my cheeks.

~~Flashback Time~~

"Hey daddy, how was your day today?" An eight year-old girl with her brown hair in two stubby braids asks a man with nearly black hair and golden eyes who had just entered the home.

"I can't have a good day; not when Avis is gone." He says, sighing.

"But… mommy left one year ago, daddy…" the girl says to the man.

"And you expect me to get over her death?" he said, slapping the girl into the wall. "It's probably your fault she died!" he roars at her. She shrieks and runs upstairs. He chases her.

The girl is rounding up a group of younger children. There is two six year-old boys, a four year-old girl, a two year-old girl and a newborn baby. "No… it's not your fault, Catherine… it's hers!" the man yells, pointing at the baby. "If Avis didn't have her, she wouldn't have died!"

"It… it's not Tanny's fault mommy died…" the eldest girl, Catherine says. The man looks at her.

"If you're going to protect that monster, she won't feel any harm," he says, deathly quiet. "Instead, if you're going to protect her, protect her to your fullest!" he yelled and punched Catherine's cheek. The girl shrieks and stumbles backwards, still holding the baby.

"C-Clara… take Tanya… hide with her, Johnny, Sam and Christine… wait until I find you…" she stutters out and hands her youngest sister to the four year-old child who nods and grabs her brothers and other sister before fleeing the room.

"Catherine… it's your fault Avis died… it's your fault Jonathan prefers music over sports… it's your fault that Clara became a mute…" he hisses before grabbing her arm and throwing her into the wall. She cries out quietly but stays mostly quiet. The man mutters and leaves the room, the girl still crying in pain.

And so life went on. Instead of targeting the youngest daughter, the man attacked his oldest daughter brutally. She spent her time staying ahead in school and caring for the family while he worked and drank. She learned when it was best to avoid him and when to purposely put herself in front of him. She protected her siblings—her children.

~~End of Flashback~~

I blinked tears out of my eyes, now realizing that I had gotten caught in a powerful memory—third grade.

"Are you alright?" Arthur said. To this I sobbed.

"No. Not when the monster who was left after my mother died is still alive." I said, crying.

"Wh… what happened?" a new voice said. I turned. There was Gilbert, Alfred and Feliciano. Alfred had spoken.

And so I told them. I told the second living beings what had happened when my mother died, of the monster that was left of my father. I told them of the pride I had of my siblings—the pride only a parent should have. I told them of how I was forced to raise a family at age eight, the age where a girl should only care about pink and Barbies.

But I mostly told them about how I had finally found an adult I trusted, and it wasn't a teacher, or a friend's parent. It was the kind woman who worked at the grocery store and helped me reach the top shelf.

The woman whom I trusted as a sister.

My friend, Martha.

**A/N I nearly cried when I wrote this. I really did.**

***Doctor Who is a British sci-fi TV series. You should all watch it.**

****British slang for television. XD**

**Read and Review, please.**


	4. Blast from the Past: It's Grandpa Rome!

**A/N Sorry this took so long! I decided to actually write it up (as in pencil and lined paper) to get help with some foreign phrases, so… yeah. XD Then my computer got a virus… D: Luckily, this lived! :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I only own Calvin and her crazy family.**

I looked down at my arms, crossed on the table in front of me. Somewhere in the middle of my story, Alfred, Gilbert and Feliciano had moved from the doorway and were now sitting at the kitchen table with me.

"Wait, so is this the same Martha as the one who called earlier?" Arthur said, sitting across the table from me.

"Martha Smith. Fellow Doctor Who fan. My best friend in the whole wide world. The woman who got citizen of the year in the town where I grew up. The one who explained everything to child services. The one who told my non-nuclear family what was going on. The reason I got the inheritance meant for my father." I said, smiling faintly.

"You've known this Martha-chick for a long time, then." Alfred said, looking at me.

"Yep. Nine year anniversary's in June. She practically raised me!" I said, smiling more.

"Vee~~ no one should face that while growing up…" Italy said, tears forming.

"Well I did, since it would've been my upbringing or Tanya's death." I said, smile fading a bit.

"Well… what happened next? The awesome me wants to know." Gilbert said.

"Child services happened. They wanted to separate us, but Martha wouldn't let them. Her argument was that I'd be an adult in one week." I said, smile returning as I remembered that day.

~~Flashback~~

A tall woman with curly brown hair and bright hazel eyes sat in a chair across a table from a man wearing a suit and glasses. A girl with short brown hair sits next to the woman.

"It would be better to separate them. That way, they'd have a better chance to find homes." The man in the suit states, no emotion apparent in his voice.

"Separate them after all they've been through? EIGHT YEARS! It would destroy them!" The frizzy-haired woman cries out with a British accent.

"Your thoughts for the children are commendable, Miss Smith. However, only Catherine is remotely close to adulthood, and she's seventeen. Jonathan and Samuel are only fifteen, with Clara at thirteen, Christine at ten and Tanya at eight. Clara, even, needs counseling due to her lack of vocalizations, I must point out!" the man states.

"If you'll please refrain from talking about me like I'm not in the room, I would like to say that my birthday is in one week. I've taught all of them sign language, so there's no need to get hyper over the fact that Clara has selective muteism." The girl with the short hair says. "And it's Calvin, _not_ Catherine."

"See? They've built up emotional support with each other! Separating them would destroy them on an emotional level." 'Miss Smith' exclaims.

"Then, pray tell, _why_ did you come here?" the man asks.

"To make that man, Calcifur Blacke, not be our legal guardian anymore. He was threatening to murder me and Tanya." Calvin says, narrowing her eyes.

"Who'll be the legal guardian for the next week however?" the man asked.

"Martha Smith, the woman right next to me." The girl immediately replies. "Once I become a legal adult, she'll be the next one to call after me."

"Very well then. Here's the necessary paperwork." The man says, opening a filing cabinet and taking out a manila envelope. Calvin and Martha thank the man for his time as they leave, smiles on their faces.

~~End of Flashback~~

"You okay? You, like, zoned out there for a second there." Alfred asked, snapping his fingers in front of my face. I blinked a few times, returning to the present.

"Yeah, just… remembering. So, who wants to watch television?" I said, smiling again.

"Sure!" America says, smiling brightly. "Last one there has to eat Iggy's cooking!" he ran into the living room and flipped over the back of the couch. I walked slowest, taking my sweet time and smiling a bit.

I walked into the room at the same time as England. However, I managed to steal the remote from America. As I flipped channels randomly, I found something that made my blood run cold.

Twilight.

"Hsssssssssss…" I hissed at the TV screen and was about to change the channel. However, America stole the remote, laughing. England stared at the screen.

"What is this?" he finally asked.

"Americans making other Americans hate a British actor. And they're also failing _majorly_ on vampires." I replied, glaring at the TV.

"Dare I ask how?" England said, looking at me.

"Rob Pattenson. Cedric Diggory. Edward Cullen. 'Vampire'." I said, glaring hotly at the television. Around thirty minutes later, I was on the verge of sleep. It was nearly the meadow scene in the movie.

"So he'll burst into flames when there's sunlight? Finally—I can't stand another _second_ of this bloody movie." England said, smiling a bit. I sighed.

"The author of the book failed a vampireology test, Arthur. He doesn't have fangs, lives in the woods, his eyes change color, he makes a big deal about being a 'vegetarian'—all vampires drink animal blood, Shadowhunters will slay them otherwise—he doesn't shower or sleep and he _sparkles_. Not a vampire. Faerie. Vampires have fangs." I said, gesturing toward the screen as Edward began to shimmer.

"That's…" England gawked.

"Yep. One of the _biggest_ mythological fails that exist." I replied with a grin. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to read City of Bones to purify myself." I stood up and walked up the stairs, going towards my room. I opened the door to my room and, glancing at the unmade bed, walked over to a door. I reached down the front of my shirt and took a key out of my bra. _Hey, it makes a good pocket_, I thought and unlocked the door.

Behind it was a library, of sorts. I walked in between the shelves, sliding a hand along the spines and smiling. _Shakespeare… Dante… Lewis… Tolkein… Clare! There we go_. I pulled a paperback book that proclaimed itself to be City of Bones by Cassandra Clare. It was one of my favorites and was my go-to guide for demons, vampires, werewolves and all of the unseen sort.

Good thing they never made a movie of it.

_Jace fangirls would be too scary_, I thought, shuddering. I blew some dust that collected off of the book. Clutching the thick book to my chest, I walked out of the hidden room, locking it as I left. I turned around and shrieked, nearly dropping the book.

There, lounging on my was…

The Roman Empire.

WTH?

"Hm?" he said, looking at me. I blinked.

"Uh… hello?" I replied, knowing that I was toeing dangerous waters.

"… who are you?" he finally replied. I face-palmed.

"I'm Calvin." I replied. He nodded, almost acting as if it was common knowledge.

"Where am I?" he asked next.

"My home in the Middle of Nowhere, Montana, USA." I replied, arms crossed now.

"What's behind that door there?" he said, hopping up and walking over, pointing over my shoulder.

"Books. And dust." I replied, blushing at _how close_ he was and ohmygodwhywasIthinkingthis?

"Ah." He replied and wandered over to the bed.

"So…" I thought for a minute. "Are you hungry?" I finally asked, using the universal icebreaker.

"Yes… say, have you seen my grandson, Northern Italy?" he asked, looking me strait in my eyes.

"H-h-he's p-p-probably in h-his room." I said, averting my eyes, stuttering and blushing.

"Bene*! Where's his room?" he asked, smiling.

"N-next r-r-room over… he m-might be downstairs though…" I said, nudging my index fingers together and looking at the ground. I flinched as I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Look at me. Why are you so shy?" I looked up into his light brown eyes (curse my shortness!) and merely shrugged. He tilted his head as he looked at me and I suddenly had a question.

"Are you a unit?" I suddenly blurted out. He blinked at me before shrugging before walking out of my room. I blinked at the strange occurrence before walking downstairs. Gilbert, Alfred and Arthur were still watching Twilight, although the latter more or less stared with horror. I walked into my kitchen where I spied the Italy manual. Rapidly flipping through it, I attempted to find anything about 'Grandpa Rome' appearing.

Nothing.

Crap.

However, there was a customer service number on the last page. I grabbed my phone and punched in the numbers. It was answered on the third ring.

_Hello, you have reached Customer Service._

_Press 'one' if your unit has died._

_Press 'two' if you received the wrong manual._

_Press 'three' if the Alternate! Personality unit has arrived._

_Press 'four' if you didn't order a unit/a unit has appeared._

I pressed four.

_Whoops! It appears that a unit has appeared._

_Press 'one' if you have a manual._

_Press 'two' if you don't have a manual._

I pressed two.

_The next available sales employee will be with you shortly._

The 'on hold' music began to play. I sighed before putting the phone on speakerphone and drumming my fingers on the table. I jumped slightly as the Roman Empire and Italy came in talking in what I could sorta determine as… Latin? Hey, I took French in high school and I'm only taking Latin now. Speaking of which, where is that book of murder plots?

"Quid agis avus**?" Italy said, smiling.

"Bene, bene gratias! Et tu?***" Rome said, grinning broadly.

"Bene, bene.****" Italy replied. I sighed before glaring at them.

"I may know a _little_ Latin, but I'm _definitely_ not fluent. Speak in English, please." I said, looking at them. A voice came from the phone.

"Hello, Hetalia! Customer service." The voice, a male, said.

"Hello, I recently began to receive units. However, an _unexpected_ arrival came today.: I said, turning away from Rome and Italy.

"How is it unexpected?" the person asked, confused. I walked into another room.

"My Italy unit apparently… _attracted_ a Roman Empire. I need an explanation and a manual." I said, somewhat angry.

"… A Roman Empire?" the voice was still confused.

"Yes. The ex-nation that's supposedly dead. Help me." I said, sighing.

"Uhm, I don't really have an explanation. I'm afraid you'll have to figure things out for yourself." He apologized.

"Then what the _hell_ should I _do_?" I hissed into the phone, aware that America, Prussia and England were staring at me like I was insane.

"Ask him. Look stuff up. Find out what he likes and doesn't like. It's a good thing that he didn't come in a crate." The man said, laughing a bit at the last item. I sighed.

"Very well then. Thank you for your time. Goodbye." I stated into the phone before hanging up. I turned to the three countries staring at me. "We've got a… uh… _Roman Empire_ staying with us now. You will treat him with respect. Gilbert, don't try to rape him. Alfred, don't use the 'American nuke treatment' on him. Arthur, don't curse, jinx, hex or use any form of magic on him. Do I make myself clear?" I said, looking at each nation. They nodded hurriedly. "Good. Now I'm going to make…" I looked at a clock. "… brunch. Don't annoy me; I'm probably going to make eggs, bacon and French toast before anyone asks." I finished before walking into the kitchen.

Once I went into kitchen, I pulled my iPod out of my pocket. When had it gotten there? I had no idea. I plugged it into my high-quality iHome—on loan from my brother, since he didn't want to loose it at college—and hit shuffle. Some soft music began to play, a tune recognizable as Scarborough Faire. I hummed along, cracking eggs into a bowl. I wasn't as good of a cook as Clara, but I could make mean French toast. The door to the kitchen opened and I could hear soft footsteps making their way towards me. I turned around; there was Prussia.

"Hey… does the not-as-awesome you need any help from the awesome me with cooking?" he asked, tilting his head a bit.

"Uh, sure. Can you crack some of those eggs into that bowl for me?" I replied, gesturing toward the eggs.

"Sure." He walked over and was about to grab an egg.

"Wait a sec—wash your hands first." I said, pointing at the sink. He rolled his eyes and walked over to wash his hands. He then walked over and began to crack some eggs into the bowl. I took some frozen, un-cooked bacon out of the freezer and began to put them onto a cookie sheet. Once I had put the bacon strips onto the sheet, I turned the oven on and washed my hands again, since raw bacon is somewhat nasty. I grabbed the bowl from Gilbert, since there were enough eggs in it, and put some milk in it. I sprinkled in some cinnamon and a bit of vanilla, enough to make it into the egg part for French toast.

"Gil, can you crack eggs into that other bowl now? This is for French toast, and that's for scrambled eggs." I said, gesturing towards another bowl. He pulled it closer and began to crack eggs into it. The door opened again, and there was England.

"May I help?" England asked, looking hopeful. I paused, staring at the bread I was taking out of the freezer.

"Can you, uh, wash dishes? Yes, wash dishes!" I said, hurriedly. He seemed to shrink a little at that.

"Very well then." He said and began to wash some plates from… I don't know when I last washed dishes…

There were more footsteps, and there was America. He looked apologetic. "Sorry, I tried to keep Iggy out of the kitchen…" he said, looking down. I did a face-elbow, since I had bread in my hand.

"It's alright. Do you want to help Arthur wash dishes, or do you want to set the table?" I said, tossing the bread into the egg mix. He looked around, apparently trying to find some way of opting out.

"Uhh… I'll… where's Italy? I should probably wake him up." America said, turning around.

"He's awake already. Go find him; then you have to wash dishes or set the table." I replied, stacking egg-bread on a plate. Gilbert snickered.

"Kesesesesese…. That should teach him." He said, laughing. I laughed too.

"Yeah, I know! He acts just like my littlest brother, Sam. He'd do anything to get out of helping in the kitchen, so I'd get him to keep Tanya _out_ of the kitchen." I said, laughing brightly. He raised an eyebrow.

"Why shouldn't she be in the kitchen?" he asked, tilting his head. I shuddered.

"Ever wonder how I was able to survive England's cooking? Well, it's because I've had to fix her cooking fails for years. Her food _looks_ edible, but it isn't. Trust me." I replied, smiling a bit. "It killed a rat once, actually." The oven beeped a few times, showing that it was the correct temperature. I quickly washed my hands and opened the oven before placing the tray into the oven. I set the timer and washed my hands again, returning to the bread.

"Killed… a _rat_?" England stated, not quite believing it.

"Yep. So, if you ever see a fourteen year-old girl that looks _just like_ Liechtenstein, don't offer to eat her cooking. You'll probably die." I said, finishing egging the bread. I pulled out a few pans, knowing it would take all of them. I looked at Gilbert who had a bowl of eggs. I poured milk into it, and dumped all of it into a high-sided pan. I handed Gilbert a spatula.

"Make sure this doesn't burn, or I'll be forced to kill you." I said, turning all of the burners on. I put the pan with eggs in it on the far left before putting pans all across the other burners. After I melted some butter into the pans, I tossed the bread into them. I settled to humming along to the song, which had coincidentally switched to "Hero" once America had walked in and was now "Blow me Away". My favorite song.

A little while later, after the French toast was done cooking and the bacon was done, I put the food onto serving trays. I carried them into the dining room, where everyone was already sitting. England was at the far end, with America sitting alone on the left side, far away from England. Prussia was sitting across from America, where it appeared they were having a staring contest. Italy was next to Prussia with the Roman Empire next to him. Alfred had set the table and had cups of water at each place. I put all of the food on the table at random places. I went back into the kitchen, where I grabbed the maple syrup. I put it on the table next to my plate.

My maple syrup, ya got that?

Anyway, we settled to eating the food. It was awkward. I finally was the first to break the strange silence. "So, what do you think of the state of the economy these days? I mean, it _stinks_ but I oh-so-luckily got a good job as an author. Jonathan, the older of my twin younger brothers, has a good job writing music. Sam, the other of the two twins, is an athlete and a mechanic. Clara, the oldest of my younger sisters, has a good foothold in the culinary world. Christine is already selling her paintings and Tanya is selling albums with her band and Jonathans help. What do all of you think?" I said, looking at all of them.

"It stinks. I owe China cash—." America said, cut off by England who coughed, which sounded suspiciously like 'billions'. America glared. "and there's the crazy high unemployment rate-" with England cutting him off with muttering 'India's is worse'. "AND there's Iggy interrupting me."

"Don't forget about how California blew its budget. Why the heck is an _actor_ their governor, anyway?" I said, taking a bite of my French toast. America shot me a strange look.

"Why do you care about Cali's budget anyway, Cal. You live in _Montana_. Not _California_." He said, looking at me strangely. I grinned.

"Sam and Clara are in California. I care about them too, ya know." I said, sighing. "What do you think of it, Italy?" I asked the nation that was happily eating some French toast.

"Vee~~ my economy is sorta bad…" he said, looking unhappy. I turned to England.

"And you, Arthur?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Bad. It's bad." He said simply. I nodded and ate my food. We finished eating soon, with the rest being given to America so there wouldn't be any leftovers. He seemed happy enough. I looked at the nations before sighing.

"We need to go into town. Short warning, it's cold out there. Grab a jacket or something." I stated simply. They stared at me. I sighed. "And, Roman empire—do you have a non-country name?—you'll need a long jacket. Or pants. Be like your soldiers in Britain—wear leggings!" I said to the ex-empire. He nodded absentmindedly. I sighed. "Lemme go get some of Sam's pants that he abandoned here. They should fit… maybe." I said, walking upstairs. I went into a different hallway. This one seemed… _different_. It had six doors, one of which led to the bathroom. I went into the second door to the end on the left, or Sam's room. The large room was dominated by a large bed to the right, with a skylight being the ceiling. There was a door in the wall next to the bed and a closet to the left.

I opened the closet and pushed the clean shirts out of my way, trying to find where my brother kept his pants. There we are—a simple pair of guys jeans. "Hey, Roman Empire!" I called downstairs. He walked upstairs and peered into the room, looking confused. I threw the pants at his head. "Here's a pair of pants." I said before slipping past him into the hallway.

"Hey, Calvin!" he called into the hallway. I turned around, confused.

"Yeah?" I replied, confused.

"My name's Romulus." He responded, smiling. I smiled back.

"Okay, then, Romulus." I responded a bit happily. I went into my room, where I grabbed a note book and wrote at the top of a page: Roman Empire=Romulus.

I'm proud of my shorthand for things like this.

I put the notebook back onto my desk and grabbed a pair of socks, which I pulled on. I walked downstairs, with Romulus joining me on the stairs. We walked down the stairs into the entryway, where we were met by Italy, whom I presumed was wearing his other uniform, Gilbert wearing the same uniform—ew—, America wearing the same shirt/under jacket/bomber jacket as before—yet again, ew— and England wearing the same thing he came in, not an 'ew' because he arrived today.

"We're going into town, so grab shoes and-slash-or a jacket. You'll need it, since it'll take a long time. It gets _cold_ here _quickly_." I stated, looking at all of the men gathered in front of me. "Any questions about what we're doing or where we're going will be answered in the car." I added quickly. They all grabbed shoes, ranging from boots to what appeared to be dress shoes. I grabbed my black trench coat and black boots, pulling on the latter and folding the former over my shoulder. Since I was next to the door, I opened it using a key that was in my pocket before running upstairs to grab my wallet.

Yes, I can forget my wallet. Don't ask how.

I walked back downstairs to see all of the countries assembled. "Shall we go? Or shall we go?" I asked them, using a joke from when I was nineteen. America grinned.

"Let's go!" he said, doing a fist pump. I laughed and walked outside. It was an overcast day, with a slight dusting of snow from the night before. I could spot tire tracks from the Flying Mint Bunny delivery truck from when it delivered England. It wasn't that cold out—just around fifty degrees Fahrenheit. I could deal with that. We walked over towards the garage, which I opened by typing a code into a keypad. Inside was my minivan—the tricked out one, with four-wheel drive, a non-apparent roll cage and a good sound system. I was happy I had brought my iPod with me.

"Shotgun!" America gleefully cried out and took passenger. England rolled his eyes as Gilbert, Rome and Feliciano crammed into the back. Arthur eventually took the seat right behind me so he could easily yell at America. I pulled out of the driveway and began the drive to town. Alfred spent most of the time staring out at the mountains, trees and lakes, smiling. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

"According to most people, the people who live here are organized tax dodgers and mad bombers," I said, pulling onto another road. "Random, right?"

"Why would people think that?" England asked, curious. I laughed.

"It's because people think 'Who in their right mind would live so far away from anything unless they're hiding from something?'" I said, giggling a bit.

"Vee~~ why do you live here?" Italy asked, confused.

"Because it's pretty here, the air's good quality and they have good schooling." I stated matter-of-factly. I pulled into the parking lot of the main department store here, knowing we would need to buy clothes. Badly. "M'kay everyone, we're going to buy two different pairs of pants and fourteen shirts. At a minimum." I said, twisting awkwardly in my seat to look at all of them.

"Why so many?" Rome asked, confused.

"I do laundry every two weeks. Oh, and you'll all need pajamas…" I said, trailing off as I ninja'd into a parking space. I turned off the car and unbuckled my seatbelt before opening my door. I turned to see all of the countries get out of the car—America first, followed by England, then Gilbert, Rome and Italy. I locked the car, and we walked into the department store.

Now, I would _like_ to say everything went smoothly—we got clothes and left—but how in the WORLD could that happen if you have five—count it, FIVE—countries following you around. But that couldn't happen in real life.

Instead, as we walked in, Prussia saw a woman. A nice looking woman, but a random woman, nonetheless. He smirked and groped her.

And I thought I'd taught him to do better.

Darn it.

I grabbed him around his midsection and yanked him off of her. However, we ended up in a heap on the floor. I coughed hair out of my mouth—not mine, I will add—and pushed the Prussian off of me. He glared at me, but I ignored him and went over to the horrified woman.

"I'm truly sorry, miss, but he is a little… well, you know. It's practically his way of greeting people, but he'll only do it if he likes how you look. So, it's basically a compliment." I said, gesturing with my hands as I talked. "He did it to me when he met me." If anything the woman looked confused now. "I'm truly sorry about it, though." I added. She nodded and walked away.

I turned around to look at the units, all four… wait, four? I looked at them. Alfred, check… Arthur, check… Feliciano, check… Gilbert, check… so that meant… "Romulus!" I nearly yelled, spotting the man sneaking up on a group of women. I stormed over and grabbed him, pulling him with me. "We are _shopping_. Not. Watching. Women." I growled, narrowing my eyes. He looked terrified.

"I… I'm sorry…" he said, holding up his hands in front of him. I rolled my eyes. I turned to England.

"Arthur, I'm trusting you to go with them to get stuff like underwear. I'm going to find jackets, pants and shirts. We'll meet up…" I looked around. "at the bottom of the down-going escalator in one hour. Got it?" I said, looking at him. He nodded. "Good. See you in sixty minutes." I walked away from them, going towards them men's section. I looked at all of the racks and sighed.

"At least I'm not like most women shoppers—I just find stuff that looks like it'll fit." I muttered to myself, examining a shirt with a critical eye. "I think this'll fit on Alfred…" I stated to myself.

After a good forty minutes of finding shirts in varying colors for all of my tenants, I went into the jeans section, carrying seventy-five—yeah, you heard right—_seventy five_—shirts, I sighed. I must look weird, first and foremost, being a woman in the mens section, secondly holding enough shirts to outfit an army. I grabbed the first pairs of pants that I imagined would fit on them and went towards the bottom of the escalator.

That's when I heard the scream.

"OHMIGOD IT'S ARTHUR!" was what I heard. I turned to see England backing slowly away from what appeared to be a group of rabid fangirls. The rest of the countries were hiding. I sighed, knowing that I wouldn't get away without injuries. But, still, he was a person and didn't deserve to be mobbed by fangirls. I stepped in.

"Oi, why're you molesting my friend?" I asked, still holding all of the clothes.

"He's ARTHUR KIRKLAND! How could you NOT LOVE HIM?" one of them squealed.

"Huh? What're you talking about? This is my friend Jack Shifflet, from Virginia, not some 'Arthur Kirkland' dude." I said, feigning confusion. I muttered to England three words. "No English accent."

"Yeah. I'm from Virginia." England said, doing a slight Southern accent. The girls looked shocked.

"B-but… England… eyebrows…" The army of fangirls was muttering among itself. I poked Arthur in the arm. He looked at me. I gestured with my head to get away from them. We snuck off as they began to yell at each other. I sighed with relief as the other countries met up with us.

"That… was too close." I said, my voice low.

"Yeah—one of them nearly stole Gilbird!" Gilbert said, holding said bird close to him.

"Vee~~ we got clothes though!" Italy said brightly.

"I got a LOT of shirts and pants. Hope they fit." I said, referring to the MOUNTAIN of clothes I was holding. We went over to the cashier, whose eyes I SWORE bulged out of his head at the sheer number.

"So, what're we going to do the rest of the day?" America asked excitedly, grinning.

"I dunno. We could do groceries or something, maybe get ice cream, get games or books—what do all of you want to do?" I said, looking at all of them.

"I would like to get some books to read." England said first.

"I want ice cream! And I want to get a video game or something!" America said happily.

"Vee~~ could we get stuff to make white flags?" Italy said, smiling.

"You don't have anything to make good food. I say we go to that Mediterranean market that I saw earlier." Rome said, straight faced.

"I dunno. What does the not-as-awesome you want to do?" Gilbert said, looking at me. I thought for a few seconds.

"Lets see… how about we get ice cream—actually, frozen yogurt—JoAnns, then go to Game Stop, then go to Barnes and Noble then visit the Mediterranean market. Sound good to all of you?" I said slowly.

"Sounds good to me!" America said, brightly. "After all, I'M THE HERO!" The last bit he nearly yelled. We all flinched, expecting rabid fangirls to attack us. The cashier noticed how worried we looked and entered the prices faster.

"Okay, your total is five hundred and seventy-five dollars." The man at the cash register said. "Cash or credit?" he asked, looking at me. I wordlessly pulled out a credit card, already figuring out what I could sell to get more money. After swiping the card and signing, I stared at the twenty bags.

"Uh, Alfred? Could you carry some of these?" I said, pointing at the bags. He smiled, nodded, and grabbed ten, five on each arm. I grabbed four, two on each arm. That left six. Rome grabbed two, Italy grabbed none, Gilbert grabbed two and England grabbed two. We all began to awkwardly walk out to the car. I unlocked it and we put all of the bags in the back.

"Okay, everyone in! Yogurt land is all the way across town." I said, hopping into the drivers seat. Everyone got into the same seat as before, since they didn't want to sit anywhere else. We then drove over to the other end of town which had a Barnes and Noble, a JoAnns and a Yogurt land among other things. We got out of the car and went into the Yogurt land. Being your average Yogurt land, there were a few tables on the right, with the counter on the left and the line of frozen yogurt machines going into the back of the store. I grinned and walked to the back, where I grabbed a bowl. I went over to the chocolate frozen yogurt machine and put some in my bowl. America got vanilla and chocolate, while England got pecan, Rome got something—I couldn't tell—and the same with Italy. Gilbert stared at all of the machines before putting a bit of each into his bowl.

After getting the frozen yogurt, we began to pour toppings onto them. I, as always, put a mountain of chocolate candies on mine, with Alfred getting the same, Feliciano putting nuts on his, Romulus putting fruit on his, Arthur putting nothing on his and Gilbert staring and putting a bit of everything on his. We then paid for the yogurt and sitting at a table. America looked at England's yogurt.

"Why didn't you get any toppings? That's half the fun!" he said, staring at the pale green yogurt.

"Yeah, Arthur. Don't want your FroYo to be naked." I said, sounding completely serious. All of them just stared before I cracked up laughing. "Your… your guys' _expressions_… I wish I had a camera…" I said, busting up laughing. America turned to Rome next.

"Why'd you only get fruit on yours? It doesn't make sense?" America said, confused.

"Actually, Alfred, for the Romans, fruit was dessert." I said, taking a bite of yogurt. He stared wordlessly at Romulus.

"Th… th… then how did you _live_?" He cried out, clutching onto his yogurt. Rome stared before shrugging. He looked at Italy's. "Ehn, I guess nuts count as a topping…" he said, looking at it.

"Nuts are healthy." I stated before head-tableing. Gilbert laughed.

"Kesesesesese… that's what she said!" he said, pointing. I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever." I said simply. We finished our yogurt in relative silence, not wanting to make another perverted joke. Once we finished, we walked over to JoAnns, a sewing store. We bought _plenty_ of white cloth for white flags. Italy was happy to be prepared for war—or surrendering, as the case may be.

We put the cloth into the car before walking to Game Stop. Once we got inside, America immediately began to grab video games. I sighed.

"America… even _I_ have a buget. One game _only_." I said. Wii games are expensive. He sighed and began to compare the games he was holding before selecting one. He carried it over to me, where I was standing by the counter. The man at the counter laughed at the small scene Alfred had caused.

"Video game lover?" he asked America, who nodded vigorously. The man chuckled. "Knew it. Your total will be fifty-one dollars and thirty two cents." I held out my credit card and signed the pad… thing. Seriously, I _need_ to find out what they're called. We then left the store, heading to Barnes and Noble. Once we walked bookstore, England was in shock due to the sheer number of books.

"And… this is _American_?" He said in shock. I laughed.

"We Americans _do_ love our books!" I said, smiling. He grinned before running towards the Fantasy section. America immediately went into the Sci Fi section, grinning like a maniac. Italy, looking confused, shrugged and went into the Children's Fiction. Rome wandered over to the History section. I was left with Gilbert as we wandered the store, me trying to find something interesting that I hadn't read before and Gilbert trying to find something interesting. He found a book in the historical fiction section and merely stared at the author.

"Hey… did you write this book?" he asked, holding a book whose title was Suum Cique. I smiled recognizing the book.

"Yes I did. It's about a Prussian woman during the fall of Prussia. You'd like it. I have a copy at home." I said, tracing my fingers over the silhouetted profile image of an eagle on the cover. "It was actually inspired by you." I added simply.

"By… me?" Gilbert said, shocked. I nodded simply. I turned to put the book away but couldn't, due to the pair of arms that suddenly wrapped around me. I blushed heavily as I realized who was holding me, resting his head on my shoulder. "Thanks, Kitten." He murmured into my ear. I stood there, stiff, with absolutely _no clue_ what to do or why in the world he called me 'Kitten'. Maybe it was his nickname for me, like how he calls Canada 'Birdie'? I have no idea. What I _did_ know, however, was that a few girls were staring. And pointing. And 'aww'-ing. Is that a camera? I decided that this was _waaaaaaay_ too weird. _But… it would be really rude to pull out of a hug…_ I thought, still being held by the Prussian. Luckily, he wasn't groping me or anything… yet.

One of the girls finally said something loud enough so that I cold hear. "Is that Hungary and Prussia hugging?" I blushed even more as I realized what they were talking about. _I look NOTHING like Hungary! Her hair's longer than mine and lighter. She has GREEN eyes, not brown and she CERTAINLY doesn't have glasses! _ I thought to myself, somewhat shocked. I heard laughing coming from Gilbert. Apparently he had heard them too.

"Kesesesese… they think you're Hungary, Kitten." He said, laughing. Gilbird cheeped from his location on Gilbert's head.

"I d-don't r-r-really l-look like h-h-h-her though…" I managed to stutter. Prussia laughed quietly before moving from hugging me to having one arm over my shoulders.

"Why don't you think you look like Hungary, Kitten?" he asked, turning me so that I was facing him. I blushed and looked away from him.

"Sh-she's way prettier than me… I'm really plain…" I said, quietly. I looked up to see Gilbert looking concernedly into my eyes.

"You're pretty, Kitten." He said softly, before lifting my chin up and kissing me. I nearly flinched at the unexpected contact, not knowing what to do. He pulled back and smiled at me. "Come on, everyone has to be wondering where the heck the awesome me is." He said, turning away from me. It took all of my self control to simply nod and not touch my mouth. I quickly put the book away and hurried after Prussia.

Right outside of the aisle we were in, America, England, Italy and Rome were comparing books they wanted.

"Vee~~ this book is good!" Italy said, holding up a children's book.

"No! You need the Brother's Grimm!" England said, pushing a thick book to Italy.

"No way, dudes—Star Wars for the win!" America grinned, holding up a book about Star Wars.

"All of you are crazy—read about me!" Rome happily held up a Roman History book. I looked over all of the books that they chose.

"No need—I have a copy of all of those books." I said, smiling. They stared at me in surprise.

"But I didn't see any books in the house," England said slowly.

"But you didn't see the entire house. Where do ya think I got City of Bones from?" I said, grinning widely. "You people fail. Except for Gilbert, since he's awesome. He asked what _I_ wanted to do. That only _just_ saved him from failure." I added, giggling.

"That's right—I'M AWESOME!" Gilbert said, smirking. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, Beillschmidt. Come on, everyone. I know the titles to these books, so I can find them later. Let's go to the Mediterranean market Romulus saw." I said, turning to leave the bookstore. The countries followed me, leaving and walking to the car. I unlocked the car and got into the drivers seat. This time, Romulus and Feliciano sat alone in the back, Alfred and England in the middle and Gilbert next to me. I got out of the parking space, which a tiny Nissan ninja'd into.

The crazy drivers around here would be the death of me, ya know?

I began to drive to the one place in town that had foreign grocery stores—a 99 cent Ranch Market, an Middle East Market and the place where I used to buy pita bread—a Mediterranean market. I drove into the small parking lot for the three stores and parked in one of the nearly-always-empty parking spaces. People here needed to eat more foreign food and maple syrup doesn't count, even if it's Canadian. I hopped out of the car, pulling on my jacket now. It was around five o'clock—or around fourty degrees out. Chilly. We trooped into the brightly-lit Mediterranean market, bell chiming as we walked in. Rome immediately began to grab things he 'insisted' we needed. I shrugged and grabbed some pita bread. I loved the stuff.

After we got a basket, since we 'needed' too much stuff to carry and we filled the basket, I payed for the food. I wondered how I would survive if I got Korea or Russia or anyone else that was obsessed over something.

At least I was a legal adult, so alcohol was no problem. Thank goodness. I wonder how a kid would live with someone like _Russia_. The thought scared me.

We walked back to the car, getting tired of repeatedly carrying stuff to it. The trunk was filled with clothes and food now, with it getting later by the second. I suddenly was struck with something.

"Oh crap, what am I going to make for dinner?" I said aloud, a look of horror on my face. America grinned.

"I have my McDonald's unlimited gift card with me!" he said happily, waving the piece of plastic in my face.

"Then there's a meal for you. I hate McDonalds. We aren't going to McDonalds. There's probably some… uhh… there's…" I trailed off, looking around.

"Vee~~ there's an Italian restaurant!" Feliciano cried out, pointing at a restaurant called Olive Garden. I shuddered.

"I don't like their food." I said, looking around again. "There's always the option of Chinese takeout…" I muttered to myself, thinking out loud.

"The awesome me wouldn't mind eating Chinese food." Gilbert said, shrugging.

"I wouldn't mind either, I guess." England said.

"Vee~~ I don't mind." Feliciano said, a bit unhappy about not getting pasta.

"Then we are going to Panda Express, the only place to get decent Chinese cuisine. They have good Sweet and Sour chicken." I said, now pointing to a somewhat small restaurant with a glowing logo on the side. We all walked in, me smiling at the familiar scent of Chinese food. Once I got to the counter, the woman, whom I knew by May, smiled at me.

"Welcome to Panda Express. How many people are in your party?" she asked, a faint Chinese accent in her words.

"Table for… six, May." I said, glancing at the countries.

"Alright, Calvin. Just a few moments please." She said before turning to grab six table settings and menus. "Follow me please." She said and began to walk to a somewhat large table. She carefully placed the table settings—which had forks, knives, spoons and chopsticks—at the six tables. "Your waiter will be with you in a few moments." She said before walking away. I sat at the a corner, America next to me with Italy next to him. Across from Italy, there was Rome, England next to him and Prussia sitting across from me. America turned to look at me.

"Wow Calvin, you seem to know a lot of people." He said, slightly surprised. I shrugged.

"I've lived here since I was ten. Then, I lived closer to town and shared a room with my sisters. Not fun." I said, resting my chin on my hands. A man wearing the Chinese uniform with short black hair walked over.

"Hello, my name's Lin. I will be your waiter for tonight. What would you like to drink?" he said, smiling a bit.

"Waters for all of us. Oh, and if you put lemon in the water, could I have mine without lemon?" I said, looking at him. He scribbled that down.

"So, six waters, one without lemon?" he repeated, looking at the notepad. I nodded.

"Alright. Are you ready to order?" he asked, still holding the notepad. I shook my head.

"No, we still need a few minutes." I said, looking at him again.

"Alright, I'll be back in a few minutes with your waters." He said before walking away. I grabbed a menu.

"I'm going to get the Sweet and Sour chicken. What're you going to get, Alfred?" I stated before turning to look at the man next to me. He stared at his menu for a few seconds before replying.

"I'm going to get Barbeque pork." He replied.

"M'kay. Feliciano, what are you going to get?" I looked past America to the brunette nation who was staring blankly at his menu. He looked at me, worried.

"I don't know what I'm going to get. Can I get the same thing as you?" he asked hopefully. I nodded.

"So you're getting Sweet and Sour chicken too… it tastes really good, trust me. It isn't overly sour, don't worry." I said, smiling at him. I turned to the next person. "So, Romulus, what're you going to get?" I asked, staring at him. He blankly stared at the menu.

"Uhh… this 'Chow Mein' sounds good…" he said slowly.

"Alright, so you're having Chow Mein. Arthur, what're you going to get?" I turned to the other blonde country. He furrowed his oversized eyebrows.

"I do believe I will get… the Sweetfire Chicken breast. It sounds good." England stated simply.

"Alright then. Gilbert, what'll you get?" I turned to the country sitting across from me. He looked at the menu before looking at me.

"What do you suggest?" he asked, tilting his head. I looked at the menu.

"Uh, other than Sweet and Sour chicken… I say to get their Orange chicken. It tastes amazing." I said, looking at the menu.

"Then the awesome me will get Orange chicken." He replied. Right then, Lin returned with six glasses of water.

"Here you all go. Are you ready to order now?" he said, looking at us.

"We're ready to order. Could I get the Sweet and Sour chicken with a side of steamed rice? If it's possible, could I also get the sauce on the side?" I said, looking at him with a smile.

"Alright, so Sweet and Sour chicken, sauce on the side with a side of steamed rice. Sir, what would you like?" he asked, looking at Gilbert.

"I'm going to get Orange chicken with fried rice." Gilbert said simply.

"Orange chicken and fried rice. Got it. What would you like, sir?" Lin asked, looking at America.

"Could I get Barbeque pork with fried rice?" America asked with an infectious smile.

"Barbeque pork and fried rice. M'kay. What would you like?" Lin asked, turning to England.

"I would like to get the Sweetfire Chicken breast with steamed rice, please." England stated simply.

"Sweetfire Chicken with steamed rice. Alright. What would you like?" Lin asked, turning to Rome.

"I will get Chow Mein and steamed rice please." Rome said, looking at his menu. Lin nodded as he wrote that down and turned to Italy.

"Vee~~ I will get Sweet and Sour chicken with steamed rice, please!" Italy said, smiling brightly.

"Alright, Sweet and Sour chicken for you too. Your food will be out in around twenty to thirty minutes." Lin said, walking away. We mainly talked about simple things, such as what China would think of this place, for the time until our food came. I giggled about what China would say to Panda Express.

"He'd love the name, and critique the food. A lot." I said, taking a sip of my water. Lin walked over, another waiter following him. We had apparently ordered so much food that they needed two waiters to deliver it.

"Alright, here's your pork," Lin said, carefully placing America's food in front of him. "Here's your Chow Mein," he said, placing Rome's food in front of him. "Here's your Orange Chicken," Lin said, putting Prussia's food in front of him. "Here's your chicken," he said, setting Italy's food in front of him. "And here's your chicken." Lin finished, carefully setting my food in front of me. He then put the sides of rice next to our plates. "I hope you enjoy your meal."

After an uneventful dinner, we paid for the meal—which cost a pretty penny, I'll say—said goodbye to May and left to go home. Right as I was about to enter the car, Prussia grabbed my arm.

"The awesome me decided what I want to do, Kitten." He said in an extremely serious tone. I looked at him.

"Yeah, Gil?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We need more bier." He stated simply. I facepalmed.

"Nice dramatic buildup to nothing, Prussia." I stated, probably looking like Sweden as I glared at him. He rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Whatever. I know you'll buy bier for me, Kitten." He said, getting into the passenger side seat.

"Whatever. Hey, everyone, we're going to the liquor store. I'm buying German beer. Any requests?" I called into the back of the car.

"Could you get scotch or whiskey, please?" England asked.

"M'kay, one person wants scotch or whiskey. Any other requests?" I asked again.

"Beer for me." America said.

"Bud Lite or Guinness?" I asked, looking at him. He appeared to go deep in though.

"Bud Lite for me." He said finally. I nodded.

"Italy? Rome? You two want anything?" I asked the other two countries.

"Could I have wine?" Rome asked. I nodded.

"So, German beer, scotch or whiskey, Bud Lite and wine," I stated simply. "What about you, Italy?"

"Vee~~ I don't drink." Italy said.

"Air-five Italy. I don't drink either." I said, smiling at him. I drove to the liquor store, keeping an eye on the dark roads. It was roughly seven o'clock at night, and I didn't want to crash. The trip to the liquor store carried on much like last time, however with me helping England, America and Rome find their respective kinds of alcohol. I boredly wondered how the _fuck_ a teenager would've dealt with them.

That's a funny mental image, heh heh.

I paid for the alcohol, John looking at me concernedly.

"Why do you need so _much_ alcohol? You don't even drink!" he said, looking at me worried.

"Alfred and Gilbert want more beer, Arthur wants scotch or whiskey and Romulus wants wine. Feliciano doesn't want any alcohol." I said before leaning in the whisper in his ear. "I'm going to go cold turkey on them eventually, though." John smiled.

"Good luck with that, Cal." He said, laughing a bit. I nodded, the countries picking up their alcohol.

Seriously, I _am_ going to go cold turkey. Maybe when I get someone like Switzerland to protect me…

Yeah, when I get Switzerland or Germany. That'd work.

We went home in relative silence, all of us wearing a jacket. I was right in the premonition that it'd get WAY colder.

Once I opened the garage and parked the van in it, I unlocked the car and stretched. It was quite dark out, with barely visible lights coming from the town. An idea struck me.

"Hey, once all of the stuff is in the house, we're going on a hike." I said to the five nations that were pulling various things out of the trunk. America looked at me, confused, holding roughly twelve bags of clothes.

"But isn't it dark out?" he asked, looking around.

"It's a night-hike. I used to love doing them closer to midnight with my siblings, but I don't have anything planned for the rest of the evening." I said, grabbing six bags of clothing. England looked at me.

"Won't we get lost?" he asked, concerned.

"I know my way around here like the back of my hand, don't worry." I said, smiling. We carried all of the stuff into the house, putting alcohol into the refrigerator and getting clothes to the correct rooms. My cat reappeared, since it _somehow_ got into the basement _again_. Tiger occasionally did that, with me trying to find a better way of preventing it from going down there. He always found a way, creepily enough.

Once everything was in the correct place, I gathered the nations in my entry hall. Italy was hiding behind Prussia, Rome was talking with England and America was staring at me. Creepy. I clapped my hands and smiled.

"Okay, everyone! We're going on a night hike. This is a relatively simple hike, which you have to do when it's dark out. No exceptions. I want all of you to line up in order of height, shortest to tallest. Italy was first, followed by England, followed by Prussia, followed by America who was, in turn, followed by Rome. I looked at them. "Okay, now put your hands on the shoulders of the person in front of you. Italy, put your hands on my shoulders. But in a few minutes." I said, looking at all of them. "Also, when I tell you to, close your eyes." I opened the door and shivered. "Come outside, guys, but you're not allowed to look up." They obediently followed these instructions, not looking up. I closed the door and locked it.

"Vee~~ it's very cold…" Italy whined. I sighed.

"Yeah, yeah. Put your hands on my shoulders. Also, people, whatever you do, DON'T LET GO OF THE PERSON IN FRONT OF YOU." I said, voice rising a bit. "Okay, now all of you, close your eyes. When the person in front of you walks, you walk. It's a trust walk and a night hike." I said, looking behind me to make sure they all had their eyes closed. They looked at me worriedly before closing their eyes. I looked ahead and began to walk.

By following a mountain trail that I had forged of glow-in-the-dark ribbons and crushed foliage, I went up to the one mountain that was in easy walking distance. It was the reason that there was a town there, since it could block the harsh northern winds. The mountain was also called Fool's Memories, since there was what was _thought_ to have been gold around twenty years ago, the locals trying their hardest to keep it secret once they found that it was Fool's Gold, or Iron Pyrite. However, because of the mining, the top of the mountain was cleared of any trees, leaving it as an amazing observation area of stars and the town, which looked interesting during the night.

I carefully led the group of nations around, going off the path and over fallen logs. After I made it to the Fool, as I called it, I led them around to the side that faced away from town. I stopped abruptly.

"Open your eyes, guys, and look up." I said, looking to the sky. The clouds from the previous snowstorm had cleared away and left the stars coldly glittering in the sea of velvet like shards of ice.

"Wow…" America said, his breath visible in the frigid air.

"Vee~~ the sky is bello…" Italy said in amazed wonder. I cracked a grin.

"Yep. We don't get much smog here, since the northern wind blows it south. As such, we get to see the sky. Walk around this mound here and look down." I said, walking around the absolute summit of the large hill on a path. The countries followed, interested. There, laid out like a carefully designed mosaic, was the town. It had followed a pattern to being created, with the absolute idea was to form a circle with lines radiating inwards. The town looked gorgeous, cars almost moving in a rhythm.

"Wow." Gilbert said, staring in amazement at the town. "That's… crazy." England mostly stared at it with a grins spreading across his face.

"That's… _fantastic_!" he finally said, staring at the town in amazement. I smiled a bit.

"I know. It's probably the reason I didn't leave when my dad lost custody of us." I said simply.

"Hey, I've got a question." Rome said, looking at me.

"Hm? Fire away." I said, looking at him.

"So… what did your father do to you?" he asked, tilting his head. "And why didn't people do anything about it until you were older apparently?" he asked, confused.

"My thoughts exactly." Alfred said simply. I sighed.

"My father… he went insane after my mother died. I didn't find out until two months later, when Clara couldn't speak. He had apparently terrified her into absolute speechlessness. I didn't know what to do, being eight after all. Around a year later, he went into a rage and attempted to hurt Tanya, my littlest sister. My mother had died giving birth to her. He blamed her for the fact that my mother died. Not the fact that my mother had been raped to have Tanya, which is why she doesn't really look like any of us." I said, sitting on a boulder. The five countries sat in front of me, looking sad.

"I stood up for Tanya, and got her to be safe for periods of time with the other siblings. 'Dad' blamed me for the fact that Clara couldn't speak, that Christine was albino, that Sam was having a hard time learning how to read and that Jonathan preferred music. Sam was dyslexic. Clara was terrified by him. Christine was doing fine. Jonathan was told by our mother to find what he was good at and work at it. He would repeatedly hit me, but so that people couldn't notice. He hit me with a belt. He would hold my head underwater for long periods of time. He burned a word into my back with a lighter—_traitor_. My father was… insane. He either had no idea what he was doing, or he _did_ know and _didn't care_." I continued, looking into the distance. I didn't want to get caught up in another flashback.

"But the reason why it took until I was seventeen to be pulled out of that house of horrors was the fact that he made it hard for me to tell. I wasn't allowed to be in an after school activity that could've given me an adult to talk to. I wasn't allowed to talk to any of my teachers and was forced to scrape by with borderline grades. They thought that I wasn't trying hard enough and that I had admirable people skills, though. Worst of all, there was one thing that he _tried_ to prevent me from having: friends. With that, he failed." I said, smiling a bit.

"I was supposed to get the groceries every week. Once, when I was fourteen, I accidentally walked into a woman who was carrying her groceries to her car. But if you meet her, she'll say she walked into me. Anyway, both of our groceries fell and hit the ground, which equated to a giant mess of eggs, milk, flour, sugar and various other ingredients all over us and the ground. After immediately apologizing and helping each other stand, we introduced ourselves. I was Cath at the time and she was Marth. I commented that it was like the video game character, and she laughed with me. That's how we met. Next week, I went to the grocery store. I was attempting to reach something that they had placed _ludicrously_ high—I was also really short back then—and Martha helped me. We laughed and called each other 'cake buddies'. We continually met at the grocery store, and we would talk about random things. She considered me a younger sibling, while I considered her my best friend. That continued until I was sixteen and learned what 'abuse' was. I couldn't trust teachers at school, or any other person my age. So I went to 'Marth'. She had watched my siblings, I had helped her clean—we trusted each other. I finally told her what was going on. She stared before hugging me, talking about how her 'little cake buddy' could've gone through so much." I said, holding my knees to my chest for a little warmth.

"And then, we began to figure out how to get evidence against my father. What we ended up doing was setting up voice recorders, of all things, since we could record him without having to say that we were. After getting a _weeks worth_ of evidence, carefully cutting out any unnecessary audio, we went to the police. And, as they say, the rest was history. He lost custody of us, and Martha gained custody for a week. I, once I was eighteen, became the legal guardian of my family. He's still awaiting trial now, six years later. Actually, only for two years. He hid for the other four." I finished.

"So… wait… you quietly suffered for eight years?" America said. I nodded.

"Yeah…" I said, and hopped up. "I personally am getting hypothermia. Let's go back to the house."

"Okay, then." Rome said, following me. The other units all stood up stiffly, having sat in the same place for too long.

"M'kay. We just need to follow the glow-in-the-dark ribbons back." I said, pointing to one of said ribbons. We all began to follow the slight trail down the mountain and back to my house. It was roughly nine thirty at night, extremely dark and _freezing_ cold. Our breath was clearly visible in the air, fingers becoming numb. I shivered a bit. An arm unexpectedly pulled me against a warm body.

"Are you cold, Kitten?" It was Prussia, the perv. Still, it doesn't hurt if it keeps me warm. I nodded jerkily. He pulled me tighter against him. I glanced at the other nations, nervous. They probably didn't care. The house was visible in the darkness, only around thirty yards away. Once we walked up to the front door, I unlocked the door with the key in my coat pocket. We all walked into the toasty warm house, sighing at the temperature difference.

"It's nice in here…" England said, a slight smile on his face. I suddenly remembered something.

"Hey, Arthur, Romulus—you have to pick out rooms!" I said, a smile on my face. They looked at me. "Follow me~!" I said happily, already walking up the stairs. _They probably think I'm bipolar…_ I thought, sighing a bit. We went into the middle hallway, the one with all of the nation-claimed rooms. "Okay, so the room at the end of the hallway is a bathroom, the one furthest on the left is mine, America is across from me, Italy is next to me and Prussia is that one right there, first on the right.

"I want to be next to my adorable little grandson!" Rome cried out and took the first room on the left. England sighed.

"Guess I'll take the one in between the git and the other pervert…" he said simply and walked into the bedroom. I yawned and walked towards my room, nodding sleepily at the three other countries that had walked upstairs. I went into my room and changed into my pajamas. I grabbed two toothbrushes and toothpaste tubes. England chose a white toothbrush and Rome chose a purple toothbrush. I walked into the bathroom, brushed my teeth and walked back into my room, where I collapsed onto the bed, took off my glasses and fell into unconsciousness, one thought appearing in my exhausted mind.

_I thought the days would get longer and they did_.

***Good**

****How are you, Grandfather?**

*****Good! How are you?**

******Good (more formal).**

**Bello means beautiful. :D**

**And yeah, I was coming up with overly-creative terms for making French toast. xD Oh well. They make you laugh a bit. :3**

**I love Yogurt land, so I had to write out a whole sequence for it, ya know? XD**

**And fluff~~ I was originally planning on making a poll on what the pairing should be, but for the moment it's PruCal. :D I made a shipping name for it even! :D *is sleep deprived* :3**

**And I had no idea what to write for the kiss. So yeah. Fear me and my horrible skillz. XD**

**Before you ask, I randomly made there be another book Calvin wrote. It (most likely) doesn't exist.**

**Don't own Panda Express. If I did, I would be a millionaire. That place is amazing. :D I reeeeeaaaally dragged some scenes out though. :/**

**Sorry for another sad scene… I had to prove that her father was bad… and **_**absolutely**_** insane. ._.**

**And MOAR FLURF! 8D**

**Oh. Ehm. Gee. Twenty six pages in word. My sister was telling me to cut it off at fifteen. XD**

**Read and Review, please! :D**

**Errors pointed out by CandyCoatedCute fixed. Hungary, not Hungry. xD**


	5. The Utter Fail of the Postal Service

**A/N I hit MAJOR writer's block with this chapter, so sorry if it stinks. D:**

**Now it's summer… eh heh heh heh… expect there to be actual updates.**

**I feel like I'm over-emphasizing some details, while being wonderfully vague with others. ;_;**

**Here are responses to reviews; they are only ones to the latest chapter, though~ :3**

**cross-over-lover232: Sadly, there isn't a Hungary manual. D: BUT, if you, the AMAZING readers REALLY want Hungary… make a manual. I will use it. :D**

**Casey0449: Same here…**

**HarvesttheVampire: Why thank you~ ^-^**

**stabbythings: Yup~ I almost want to chant it weirdly… nah, not reall. ;P**

**HundredPercentHetalian: Since I know who you are~ ;P So, Grandpa Rome and Prussia… uhh… third party gets involved and nothing gets settled~**

**Hungary: Why thank you~ :D**

**CandyCoatedCute: Thank you; thank you for noticing, it has now been fixed~**

**Sarah Magic Spell: n**

**AislingFey: It's supposed to be. xD**

**lollipopswithcreamandpie: ;D Here's the update~**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or the state of Montana. xD**

I yawned as I got out of bed, reaching over to grab my glasses. I looked at my clock once I had put on my glasses. Seven in the morning. Guh. Early.

I rolled out of bed and stood up. As I walked out of my room, I noticed that none of the countries were awake yet. Weird. I thought that England's manual said that he'd be awake at seven regularly… but then again, it had been a late night… and I usually got little sleep. I quickly walked down the stairs, wanting to make something quick for breakfast and get back to work on my novel.

Once I walked into the empty kitchen, I sighed a bit in relief. I'd almost been worried that England would be in the kitchen and I doubted my luck would hold. After toasting some pop-tarts, I walked over to the computer, where I shuddered. It felt like someone was either following me or watching me… neither of which I would like. I looked around the empty room, when I noticed my cat staring intently at a window. I sighed, knowing it would be one of those crazy birds that didn't fly south. I looked over… and screamed.

It was a man staring into my house.

"OH MY GOD!" I screamed at a volume that most people would think would deafen anyone in the house. The man basically tackled the window and smashed it open. What… the… HELL? That glass was supposed to be able to withstand hurricane-force winds! I fled from the man, my cat running along side me. I sprinted up the stairs, where I basically threw myself into America's room.

"Ngh?" was all he said. I sprinted behind him.

"CREEPY MAN CHASING MEEEEE!" I screamed as the man walked into the room. America stared at him.

"Who are you, what are you doing in Cal's house and why are you chasing Cal?" Alfred stated, standing up. He was (luckily) wearing a t-shirt and a pair of cotton pants that I had bought him.

The man merely grunted.

"Grunting isn't an answer, you bloody idiot." A voice with a British accent stated from behind the man.

"OH MEIN GOTT, ARTHUR, CALL 9-1-1!" I screamed again, still hiding behind Alfred.

"Why'd someone curse in German?" another voice asked. Gilbert.

"BECAUSE THERE'S A FUCKING CREEPER IN THE HOUSE AND IT LOOKS LIKE Y'ALL ARE IDIOTS!" I screamed again, resorting to using a southern accent. The man leapt at America, only to be held back by Prussia.

"Hit him, Al!" I yelled, reaching for the tall lamp in the room. "Or should I brain 'im with this lamp?" I heard a sudden yowling as my cat bit the man on his arm. "Or we could always leave him to the mercy—or lack thereof—of Tiger." I stated, staring at my cat. I could faintly hear police sirens in the background. "How 'bout we take 'im downstairs?" I said, carefully walking around the man who was being held by both Gilbert and Alfred.

"Yeah, sure." Alfred said, carefully following me. My cat had walked away by now, probably to find something else that interested him. We walked into the foyer, where I opened the door. It. Was. Twenty. Degrees. Out.

COLD.

I shivered back from the open door as some police officers with their tasers and nightsticks drawn carefully walked towards the door. They had a look of amazement as they saw a tall girl, an even taller blond man and an albino man holding back the man, with the girl carefully watching; a cat leapt onto the girl's shoulder.

"Oh, hello, are you the police? Well this man," at this, I pointed at the man. "broke into my home—there's a broken window, if you want to check—and chased me. Luckily, my tenants were able to stop him along with my cat," I said, smiling at the first dumbfounded officer. "I hope he pays for damages and some therapy for me and my five tenants." I added, smiling still.

"W-well, miss, that's a… strange tale. How did the cat factor in?" the first police officer asked.

"He bit the man, and I'm sorry about that. My cat is… hard to control." I said apologetically. "How about you take the man and I give you some hot coffee for being out this early to take a strange call like mine?" I offered, gesturing towards the man. The policemen nodded before walking over, holding handcuffs, and cuffed the man, stating his rights to him. The man merely wailed in response. I stared at him.

"Uh, right, coffee…" I quickly went into my kitchen and began to make coffee. A short while later, I gave the men the coffee in disposable coffee cups that I had lying around. We gave them a wave-off as they left and I turned to the assembled nations.

"Okay, so who wants to help be patch a window using either plywood or cardboard?" I asked, clapping my hands and smiling at them. They all stared at me as if I was crazy. Cue a face-palm moment. "M'kay, so, I'll just leave it and let people stab their feet on glass and it get fucking cold in here, no problem!" and I walked upstairs to get dressed. I was going to patch that window, no matter what. After I pulled on a long-sleeve black shirt and a pair of regular skinny jeans, I got cardboard and plywood. After I taped the cardboard into place using a lot of packing tape and sweeping up all the broken shards of glass, I walked outside to start to put the plywood up. Just as I was about to close the door, the doorbell rang. I quickly set everything down and walked over to the door and opened it. There, right in front of me, were two GIANT boxes.

Great—more crazy people.

"Hello, Steven. I hope your morning was saner than mine." I said, sighing as he laughed and handed me the signing pad.

"Yeah, I saw the police cars while driving over here. What happened?" he asked, looking at me concernedly.

"Crazy creeper broke into my house… hey, it shows that it's a good thing that I got these units—America and Prussia stopped him while England called the cops!" I said, smiling and handed the signing pad back. "Oh, and what's that signing pad thingie called?" I finally asked.

"It's called a Signature Pad." Steven said smiling. "Here are your manuals; the company got ahead of itself and sent you two. They're actually sane, so you shouldn't have that much trouble." He handed me two manuals. I looked at one.

**MATTHEW WILLIAMS: User Guide and Manual**

"Sweet, Canada!" I said happily. I looked at the other one.

**YAO WANG: User Guide and Manual**

"And China? YES! I WON'T HAVE TO COOK EVERY MEAL!" I said, extremely happy. Steven laughed.

"Well, there's always the chance that it's the young version in there." He said, smiling. I frowned.

"Don't distract me from my happiness," I replied. He laughed.

"Sure, sure. Do you want me to wheel these in?" he asked. I nodded, already reading the manual for Canada. He carefully wheeled both crates in and put them a distance from each other so that one opening wouldn't destroy the other.

"See ya in a day or two!" I waved to him as he walked to the truck. I closed the door and looked between the crates and the window and sighed. _Why didn't I just yell at America to help me?_ I wondered to myself before snapping my fingers.

"I know! I'll get Canada's help!" I said happily before looking at the manual again. _Hmm, I could speak in French, don't know the Canadian National Anthem, could maybe cook French/Canadian food, definitely don't want to listen to American pop music, or hockey…_ I looked at the TV. _I doubt that any hockey game is playing at eight in the morning… speaking in French it is_. I turned to the box and looked at China's box. "I'll wake China up first, and then wake up Canada. Let's see…" I looked at China's manual.

"I don't want Mandarin lessons, don't want to get ninja-attacked, so… Japanese music. I wonder if I still have that CD with Sakura, Sakura on it…" I shrugged and went over to my computer. I quickly brought up YouTube and looked up Sakura, Sakura. I hummed along happily.

"Where are you Japan aru?" I heard from the box. I stared at it as the side got punched off. He stared at me. "Who are you aru?"

"I'm Calvin, this is my house and Japan isn't here. Oh, and watch out for the cat. He has a fondness for attacking people randomly." I replied simply. "Now I'm going to speak in French. Ignore me." I walked over to Canada's box, where I cleared my throat a little.

"Bonjour, monsieur." I said to the box. I knew my pronunciation was way off, but I hadn't spoken any French in around six years. So it was actually very good that I remembered anything.

"You sound like an American, eh…" I heard faintly. I laughed.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. Anyway, I can't open the box and I don't want anyone to kick you in the head accidentally." I said simply backing away from the box. I heard from the kitchen a voice call out.

"Do you want me to make you something to eat aru?" China called from the kitchen. My stomach growled as I looked at my plate of cold eggs.

"Yes please!" I replied and flinched backwards as the box opened. Canada stood up and dusted himself off. I smiled at him.

"Hi! My name's Calvin." I said, holding out my hand as I looked around for my cat.

"I'm Canada." He replied with a smile and shook my hand.

"So, Canada, do you want to see your room?" I asked, smiling. He nodded a bit. "Hang on a sec…" I walked over to the smaller box, which I opened. There was Kumajirou, some clothes and a… hockey stick. Interesting. "Awww!" I squealed at the sleeping polar bear that lifted his head and looked at me.

"Who are you?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Calvin," I said, smiling. Canada walked over and picked up Kumajirou.

"Who're you?" I heard Kumajirou ask Canada, who sighed.

"I'm Canada, your owner." He said quietly. I began to walk upstairs, but stopped on the first step. My cat stared intently at me before merely walking downstairs. I laughed a little.

"It seems like my cat, Tiger, can't notice you. And here I thought _he_ was the perceptive one between the two of us." I said, smiling at Canada, who laughed a little. Once we reached the top of the stairs, I led him into the hallway on the far right. "Sorry, but the one on the far left is for my siblings and the one in the middle has all of the rooms taken. So, pick a room! There's six rooms, and the door at the end leads to the bathroom." I directed him to the three rooms. He merely stared before choosing the one in the middle on the left, where he put all of his clothes and his hockey stick.

We walked back to the downstairs, with me keeping an eye out for my other… _tenants_ or my cat. Matthew stared at the card-boarded window before I noticed him staring. "There was an… _intruder_ earlier… I actually was going to put some plywood over the outside when the doorbell rang." I answered the unsaid question and he nodded in response. I boredly looked into the kitchen, where I saw Yao cooking using the wok burner that was inset into my counter to the right of the usual stove and oven. Normally, there was a bread basket covering it… how he found it was beyond me. Yao turned around, noticing me watching.

"Nihao, Calvin! I'm going to make stir fry aru," he said happily. I nodded to him, smiling.

"Thanks, Yao!" I said, smiling. "The chopsticks are in that drawer, right next to the metal cooking utensils." I turned to Canada, who was looking around the computer room. "Right, Matthew, I sorta need your help with something."

After around thirty minutes of window patching, using plywood and nails, we walked back inside, thoroughly frozen. Well, at least I was frozen; Canada, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine. I quickly took off my snow-covered books and put them close to the front door before walking into the kitchen. Yao was putting food onto plates now; I heated up some milk and added chocolate powder to it—yes, instant hot chocolate. I don't have time to make it any other way.

The other units, or countries/tenants, filed downstairs. They were wearing the stuff that I had bought them for pajamas—simple t-shirts and pants—thankfully, so that was taken care of. I noticed that China was looking between all of them slightly happily.

"You don't have Russia aru?" he asked, turning to me. I shook my head.

"No… but, seeing at how much the company cares about preserving the life of us regular people, I bet he'll come sooner or later—more likely sooner." I replied, sighing. China sighed before smiling a bit.

"Well, alright then! Take a plate then, aru!" he said brightly. I—somehow, don't ask me how—leapt past Alfred, Gilbert and Feliciano and grabbed a plate for me and a plate for Yao. Rome, England and Canada had politely waited to get food, unlike everyone else.

"Hey, Yao, I grabbed you a plate," I called to the Asian country that had flinched back at the mad rush of people trying to get food.

"Thank you, Calvin aru!" he said, smiling brightly. I merely laughed before walking back to the table where I was met with what you might call… a _situation_.

"I don't own enough chairs," I stated simply. "Hmm… I only have seven… there are eight people… I call floor!" and with that, I promptly sat down where I was previously standing. Some of the countries looked at me oddly; I glared at them. "The floor can be more comfortable than a chair, ya know."

"Sure, sure Kitten, sure…" Gilbert said, laughing.

"Why don't you take my seat?" Arthur offered his chair, to which I shook my head.

"Nah, I'm sitting here." I replied before grabbing my chopsticks. "Now, to Chinese food for breakfast!~" I called into the air happily, basically stabbing the air above me with the chopsticks before I began to happily eat.

After everyone had finished, some before others, I gathered the plates to take them into the kitchen to be washed. I turned the water in the sink on hot and grabbed the liquid dish soap. As I settled into the rhythmic task of cleaning plates and silverware, I recapped the past… six days. _Wow… only six_? I thought, focusing on cleaning a large knife. _Felt more like a week… Tiger attacks my hand… I click on a pop-up… I get Prussia, then Feliciano… then America and got knocked out by Prussia… got England, survived England's cooking, saw faeries and told them my past…met "Grandpa Rome", who is currently staying at my house and had a shopping day… now I've got Canada and China. Who's next?_ I rinsed off the last plate and put it into the dish rack.

"Uh… excuse me…" I heard a soft voice from behind me. I turned; there was Canada.

"Hm? Whatcha need?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. He held Kumajirou a bit closer.

"I-I'd like to know w-where I am, eh…" he said quietly. "If it isn't too strange or anything…"

"Oh, it's not an unreasonable request. Currently, you are in the kitchen of my home in the middle of nowhere, Montana. Really close to the border, actually." I replied, smiling a bit.

"O-oh…" he said, trailing off. I sighed and tucked some hair behind my ear.

"In all of Hetalia, I view Canada as the absolutely sanest character. You're awesome to me," I said, grinning to him. He smiled slightly back before lifting Kumajirou up a bit higher and leaving the kitchen. I then left the kitchen, intending to work on my story more. Gilbert, however, had already claimed the computer and was typing up a blog post. I wandered around, trying to figure out what in the world I should do, when what would happen but _that_.

The doorbell rang.

_Why_?

_I hate my life… I hate my life… I hate my life…_ I chanted mentally to myself as I walked over to the door, Rome giving me a sympathetic look with Italy by his side, and opened it to see another box. I peered around it to see Steven.

"Hello! I seriously do not know what's going on with the postal service! Please sign here and here!" Steven said, holding the signature pad and another paper out to me.

Interesting; a waver form. Who did I get this time?

I scribbled… something… onto it before handing it back. "Alright then, good luck and have a nice day!" and he left. I blinked for a few seconds.

"Hey, wait, aren't you going to wheel it in?" I called, but it was useless; he was already gone. Good thing he left the manual on top of the box. I reached up and grabbed it, noting that the box was just taller than me.

Weird; I wonder if it was a chibi unit or something…

I looked at the manual and groaned out loud.

**FRANCIS BONNEFOIS: User Guide and Manual**

Of _course_ I get a pervert/rapist… I hate my life officially now. After around ten minutes of carefully maneuvering the box into my foyer and laying it on its side, I began to look over the instructions for waking him up.

"Lets see… how to wake up the frog… I'll just play Johnny Hallyday. Thank _dieu_ for YouTube," I muttered, walking over to the computer. "Prussia, I need the computer." I stated simply, looking at him. He looked up at me; my computer chair could make anyone short.

"Lemme just finish this post, Kitten," he said, typing faster in German. I rolled my eyes.

"I need it to play a YouTube video; it can be on a different tab," I said, shoving him off of the keyboard. I quickly brought up a new tab and Googled YouTube, searching Johnny Hallyday. "This looks promising…" I murmured, clicking on a result. Quiet music began to play; I turned up the volume on the computer. "M'kay, Gil, you can have the computer back." I turned and walked back to the box. I crouched next to it, holding the manual loosely in my right hand, resting my face on my knees. After a few seconds, I heard soft singing coming from both the computer and the box, both in too-advanced French for me to understand. The top of the box _somehow_ (don't ask me) broke off and out came France. I fled to my bathroom door, intent on hiding behind it, but I was unlucky and was caught by him.

"_Mon cher_, why don't you dance with me?" he said into my ear. I blinked a few times.

Brain=broken.

Someone intervene NOW!

"Why the fuck are you trying to dance with Kitten, France?" Gilbert said, looking into the room. France looked at him in slight surprise; I took advantage of the momentary lapse in concentration to kick at his side and jump away. Tiger, being the strange cat, was asleep on the stairs; I picked him up.

"Don't either of you two perverts get near me; I have my insane cat who'll take any and every advantage to attack you where the _sun don't shine_," I said threateningly, lifting the sleepy cat a bit higher. "And I can't dance. Last time I tried, I kicked my brother Sam in the shin and stepped on too many feet." France merely stared at me, surprised by my rant and Prussia frowning at me.

"What, you just see me as an un-awesome pervert? That's totally un-awesome, Kitten," Prussia whined basically, trying his hardest at an uke face. I glared at him.

"No uke face for you. It doesn't work. Now, France, if you'll come with me I'll show you to your room," I said sharply, looking between the two of them before turning and walking up the stairs. I quickly looked back at France. "Oh, and if you touch me, I'll do some unspeakably horrible thing to you,"

After walking up the stairs, I turned to the right hallway. I stepped into it, shaking some of my bangs out of my eyes before turning to France. "Pick a room. Those two are taken, though, and I don't approve of you bunking with anyone," I stated simply, pointing out the two claimed rooms.

"Oh, why is that, _mon cherie_?" France said, walking to a not-claimed room. I turned to look at him.

"Really? You HAD to ask that?" I replied, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged at me; I switched which eyebrow I was raising. "_Sacré__bleu_... the majority of Hetalia fans view you simply as a _pervertir_ who preys on _garçons__et des filles__innocentes_, " I replied said, using my oh-so limited French. He openly stared at me.

"_R__-__vraiment_? But that _n'est pas__la__vérité_! I am an _amant_, not some open _personne__dégoûtant__comme ça_ ! " he practically wailed. I took my turn to stare at him.

"Uhh… I only caught most of that, since I haven't spoken French since high school. So, you are a lover, not some…" I responded, disliking my lack of conversational French. He sighed.

"I am not an open pervert like that," he stated simply. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really? Think about April Fool's… Christmas… the Olympics," I said, rolling my eyes. France glared at me before sighing.

"It… it's too difficult to explain," he replied simply. I crossed my arms.

"Try me," I said simply. He looked at me again.

"Really, I—" he began again before I cut him off.

"I'm clever and I'm annoyed; explain," I replied snarkily. He sighed and murmured something in French before motioning to me to close the door. I closed it before leaning against the wall. "Door's closed; what?"

"Well, madame, we actually aren't the countries themselves," he began, leaning against the bed. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Well, that's quite obvious," I state, tilting my head as I look at him. He half glares at me.

"Well, we started off human. We're clones of genetically-modified humans," he said. I turned to look at him fully in horror.

"B-bu-but… m-modified… c-c-c-clones… HOW?" I stuttered, my brain, as I would so _eloquently_ put it, malfunctioning. He nodded at me. I slid down to the floor, hands over my mouth in shock. I looked up at him. "B-but if you're human, then why…" I trailed off. He seemed to understand what went unsaid.

_Why are you being sold?_

_Why do you react like that?_

_Why are you forced to be like this?_

_Why are you here?_

**A/N: Yup, that's the severely abrupt end. DX I just thought it was a good end, that's all~**

**As always, point out errors or inconsistencies. Determine for yourself who the man was. Enjoy the written word~**

**Translations (Note: Most of these are the literal translations; don't actually use them xD):**

**Oh mein Gott: Oh my God (German)**

**Bonjour, ****monsieur: Hello, mister (French)**

**Nihao: *completely guessing here~* Hello (Mandarin Chinese)**

**Dieu: God (French)**

**Mon cher: My dear (French)**

**Sacré****bleu : Sacred Blue (expletive French)**

**Pervertir**** : Pervert (French)**

**Garçons****et des filles****innocentes : Innocent boys and girls (French)**

**R****-****vraiment : R-really (French)**

**N****'est pas****la****vérité : Is not the truth (French)**

**Amant**** : Lover (French)**

**Personne****dégoûtant****comme ça : Disgusting person like that (French)**

**So, that's all. If you think I should use less… **_**foreign**_**, ask me.**

**In the meantime, Read and Review; they make me more willing to work.**


	6. AUTHORS NOTE NOT A CHAPTER IMPORTANT!

**NOT A CHAPTER NOT A CHAPTER!**

**Heya all of you! CanDo here!**

**So, umm, I know it's been like a year since I updated One Against One Hundred *cowers* but I finally have a solution! :D**

**My buddie EatSleepHetalia (whom I shall refer to as Kidd from now on) offered to take this story under her wing when we (finally) got to hang out in summer school. I agreed with Kidd's offer, and thus she'll be updating it :U**

**I know I know, it's like weird and random, but HEY I'm sending her all of the info and stuff so it SHOULD be the same :3 and, hey, updates :o**

**Have a good life with good reading!**

**~CanDoAnythingNow**


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